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ADVERTISEMENT 

TO THE 

THIRD EDITION. 



The difference between this edition and the last consists in a 
few verbal alterations of the text, some slight additions to the 
notes, and the omission of everything not required to illustrate 
the author's meaning, or explain the original intention of this 
work ; which was simply to clear up certain misconceptions 
regarding the poem, and cause it to be more studied and better 
understood. The subsequent sudden and almost simultaneous 
appearance of seven or eight new translations, affords a fair 
presumption that the desired object has been at least partially 
attained ; and, from the circumstance of their being all in verse, 
it may be inferred that prose versions are rather favorable than 
unfavorable to metrical ones. The author of the most admired, 
Dr. Anster, has generously given me the credit of encouraging 
him to the completion of his task • and this alone must be 
deemed no unimportant service to literature. 

11 King's Bench Walk, Temple. 
December, 1838. 



TO 



PREFACE 
THE SECOND EDITION 
OF THE TRANSLATION. 



In this edition much of the matter has been rearranged, the 
Notes are augmented by about a third, and an Appendix, of 
some length, has been annexed. The translation itself was 
found to require only a few verbal corrections ; yet, even as 
regards the translation, I lay the work before the public with 
much more confidence than formerly, both on account of the 
trying ordeal it has passed through, and the many advantages 
I have enjoyed in revising it. 

It is singular (and to the student of German literature at once 
cheering and delightful) to see the interest which Germans of 
the cultivated class take in the fame of their great authors, and 
most particularly of Goethe. They seem willing to undergo 
every sort of labor to convey to foreigners a just impression 
cf his excellence j and many German gentlemen, personally 
unknown to me, have voluntarily undertaken the irksome task 
of verifying the translation word for word by the original, and 
obligingly forwarded to me the results of the comparison. The 
amateurs of German literature in this country, also, partake of 
the same spirit of enthusiasm, and I have received many val- 
uable suggestions in consequence. My German friends will 
find that I have retained a few expressions objected to by them, 
but they must do me the justice to remember that they are at 
least as likely to err from not knowing the full force of an Eng- 
lish idiom, as I am from not knowing the full force of a German 



s 



PREFACE. 



one. Another fertile source of improvement has been afforded 
me by the numerous critical notices, in English and foreign 
journals, of my work. 

Besides these advantages, I have recently paid another visit 
to Germany, during which I had the pleasure of talking over 
the puzzling parts of the poem with some of the most eminent 
living writers and artists, and some of Goethe's most intimate 
friends and connections. Amongst those, for instance, w T hom I 
have to thank for the kindest and most flattering reception, are 
Tieck, von Chamisso, # Franz Horn, the Baron de la Motte 
Fouque, Dr. Hitzig,f Retzsch, and Madame de Goethe. M. 
Varnhagen von Ense, and Dr. Eckermann, of "Weimar, (names 
associated by more than one relation with Goethe's,) whom I 
unfortunately missed seeing, have each favored me with sug- 
gestions or notes. I think, therefore, I may now venture to 
say, that the notes to this edition contain the sum of all that 
can be asserted with confidence as to the allusions and passages 
which have been made the subject of controvers}^. 

As some of the notions hazarded in my original preface elic- 
ited a good deal of remark, I have left it pretty nearly as it 
stood, — to prove to future readers that I was guilty of no 
extraordinary heresies. 

I have no desire to prolong the discussion as to the compara- 
tive merit of prose and metrical translations : but, to prevent 
renewed misconstructions, I take this opportunity of briefly 
restating my views. 

Here (it may be said) is a poem, which, in addition to the 
exquisite charm of its versification, is supposed to abound in 
philosophical notions and practical maxims of life, and to have 
a great moral object in view. It is written in a language com- 
paratively unfettered by rule, presenting great facilities for the 
composition of words, and, by reason of its ductile qualities, 
naturally, as it were, and idiomatically adapting itself to every 
variety of versification. The author is a man whose genius 
inclined (as his proud position authorized) him to employ the 

* The real author of Peter Schlemil, most unaccountably attributed, by 
the English translator, to De la Motte Fouqu£. 
| President of the Literary Society of Berlin 



PREFACE. 



9 



license thus enjoyed by the writers of his country to the full ; 
and, in the compass of this single production, he has managed 
to introduce almost every conceivable description of metre and 
rhythm. The translator of such a work into English, a lan- 
guage strictly subjected to that "literary legislation,"* from 
which it is the present (perhaps idle) boast of Germany to be 
free, is obviously in this dilemma : he must sacrifice either metre 
or meaning ; and in a poem which it is not uncommon to hear 
referred to in evidence of the moral, metaphysical, or theologi- 
cal views of the author, — which, as already intimated, has 
exercised a great part of its widely-spread influence by qualities 
that have no more necessary connection with verse than prose, 

— it is certainly best to sacrifice metre. 

The dilemma was fairly stated in the " Edinburgh Review :" 

— " When people are once aware how very rare a thing a suc- 
cessful translation must ever be, from the nature of the case, 
they will be more disposed to admit the prudence of lessening 
the obstacles as much as possible. There will be no lack of 
difficulties to surmount, (of that the French school may rest 
assured,) after removing out of the way every restraint that 
can be spared. If the very measure of the original can be 
preserved, the delight with which our ear and imagination 
recognize its return, add incomparably to the triumph and the 
effect. Many persons, however, are prepared to dispense with 
this condition, who, nevertheless, shrink from extending their 
indulgence to a dispensation from metre altogether. But it 
is really the same question which a writer and his critics have 
to determine in both cases. If the difficulty of the particular 
metre, or of metre generally, can be mastered, without sacri- 
ficing more on their account than they are worth, they ought, 
undoubtedly, to be preserved. "What, however, in any given 
case, is a nation to do, until a genius shall arise who can recon- 
cile contradictions which are too strong for ordinary hands ? In 
the mean while, is it not the wisest course to make the most 
favorable bargain that the nature of the dilemma offers ? Un- 
less the public is absurd enough to abjure the literature of all 
languages which are not universally understood, there can be 



* Miihlenfel's Lecture. 



10 



PREFACE. 



no member of the public who is not dependent, in one case or 
another, npon translations. The necessity of this refuge for the 
destitute being once admitted, it follows that they are entitled 
to the best that can be got. What is the best? Surely, that in 
which the least of the original is lost — least lost in those quali- 
ties which are the most important. The native air and real 
meaning of a work are more essential qualities than the charm 
of its numbers, or the embellishments and the passion of its 
poetic style. The first is the metal and the weight j the second 
is the plating and the fashion/- — [No. 115, pp. 112, 113.]* 

A writer in the " Examiner " speaks still more decidedly, and 
claims for prose translators a distinction which we should hardly 
have ventured to arrogate to ourselves : — 

" Every one knows the magnificent translations left by Shel- 
ley, of the 1 Prologue in Heaven.' and the 1 May-Day Night- 
Scene fragments which, of themselves, have won many a 
young mind to the arduous study of the German language. 
By the industry of the present translator we learn, that many 
passages we have been in the habit of admiring in those trans- 
lations, are not only perversions, but direct contradictions of 
the corresponding passages in Goethe, and that Shelley wanted 
a few months" study of German to make him equal to a trans- 
lation of Faust. We do- not think the translator need have 
troubled himself with any dissertation of this sort, in order to 
justify the design of a prose translation of Faust. 'My main 
object,' he says, -'in these criticisms, is to shake, if not rerm^ve, 
the very disadvantageous impressions that have hitherto been 
prevalent of Faust, and keep public opinion suspended concern- 
ing Goethe, till some poet of congenial spirit shall arise, capable 
of doing justice to this the most splendid and interesting of his 
works.' Why not go further than this, and contend that a 
mind strongly imbue.d with poetical feeling, and rightly covet- 
ous of an acquaintance with the poet, will not rest satisfied 
with anything short of as exact a rendering of his words as 
the different phraseology of the two languages will admit ? In 
such a translation, be it never so well executed, we know that 

* This article has been translated into French, and republished in the 
RHue Britannique. 



PREFACE. 



11 



much is lost j but nothing that is lost can be enjoyed without 
studying the language. No poetical translation can give the 
rhythm and rhyme of the original j it can only substitute the 
rhythm and rhyme of the translator ; and, for the sake of this 
substitute, we must renounce some portion of the original sense, and 
nearly all the expression ; whereas, by a prose translation, we can 
arrive perfectly at the thoughts and very nearly at the words of the 
original. When these (as in Faust) have sprung from the brain 
of an inspired master, have been brooded over, matured, and 
elaborated during a great portion of a life, and finally issue 
forth, bearing upon them the stamp of a creative authority, to 
what are we to sacrifice any part or particle which can be made 
to survive in a literal transcript or paraphrase of prose ? To 
the pleasure of being simultaneously tickled by the metres of a 
native poetaster, which, if capable of giving any enjoyment at 
all, will* find themselves better wedded to his own original 
thoughts, and which, were they the happiest and most musical 
in the world, San never ring out natural and concording music 
to aspirations born in another time, clime, and place, nor har- 
monize, like the original metres, with that tone of mind to 
which they should form a kind of orchestral accompaniment in 
its creative mood ? The sacred and mysterious union of thought 
with verse, twin-born and immortally wedded from the moment of 
their common birth, can never be understood by those who desire 
verse translations of good poetry. 

" Nevertheless, the translator of poetry must be a poet, al- 
though he translates in prose. Such only can have sufficient 
feeling to taste the original to the core, combined with a suffi- 
cient mastery of language to give burning word for burning 
word, idiom for idiom, and the form of expression which comes 
most home in English for that which comes most home in Ger- 
man. Such a task, in fact, is one requiring a great proportion 
of fire, as well as (delicacy and judgment, and by no means 
what Dr. Johnson thought it — a task to be executed by any 
one who can read and understand the original." — {March 24, 
1833.] 

Another influential journal followed nearly the same line of 
argument. : — 

"To the combination — unhappily too rare — of genius and 



12 



PREFACE. 



energy, few things are impossible ; and we further venture to 
assert that, of the two undertakings, such a prose translation as 
the present is far more difficult than a metrical version could 
be, always supposing the possession of an eminent power of 
language, and a pure poetical taste, to be equal in the one 
attempt and the other." — [The Athenceum, for April 27th, 
1833.] 

The minor critics are fond of comparing a prose translation 
to a skeleton. The fairer comparison would be to an engraving 
from a picture ; where we lose, indeed, the charm of coloring, 
but the design, invention, composition, expression, nay, the 
very light and shade of the original may be preserved. 

It may not be deemed wholly inapplicable to remark, that 
unrhymed verse had to encounter, on its introduction in most 
countries, a much larger share of prejudiced opposition than 
prose translations of poetry seem destined to encounter amongst 
us. Milton found it necessar}^ to enter on an elaborate, and, it 
must be owned, rather dogmatical defence ; and so strong was 
the feeling against Klopstock, that Goethe's father refused to 
admit the "Messiah." into his house, on account of its not 
being in rhyme, and it was read by his wife and children by 
stealth. * 

Since this was written, two weighty authorities, bearing on 
the subject, have appeared. 

" Verse (says the student, in Mr. 1 Bulwer's Pilgrims of the 
Rhine,') cannot contain the refining, subtile thoughts which a 
great prose writer embodies j the rhyme eternally cripples it ; 
it properly deals with the common problems of human nature 
which are now hackneyed, and not with the nice and philoso- 
phizing corollaries which may be drawn from them. Thus, 
though it would seem at first a paradox, commonplace is more 
the element of poetry than of prose. And, sensible of this, 
even Schiller wrote the deepest of modern tragedies, his 1 Fies- 
co,' in prose." — p. 317. 

This is not quoted as precisely in point, and it is only fair 

*Dichtung und Wahrheit, b. 3. The " Messiah" is in hexameter verse, 
distinguished from the Greek and Latin hexameters by the frequent substi- 
tution of trochees for spondees. 



PREFACE. 



13 



to add that Mr. Coleridge (indeed, what else could be expected 
from the translator of " Wallenstein? ") was for verse : 

" I have read a good deal of Mr. Hay ward's version, and I 
think it done in a very manly style ; but I do not admit the 
argument for prose translations. I would, in general, rather 
see verse attempted in so capable a language as ours. The 
French cannot help themselves, of course, with such a language 
as theirs." — [Table Talk, vol. ii. p. 118.] 

Mr. Coleridge is here confounding general capability with 
capability for the purposes of translation, in which the English 
language is confessedly far inferior to the German, though, con- 
sidering the causes of this inferiority, many may be induced to 
regard it more as a merit than a defect. Still, the fact is un- 
doubted, that the pliancy and elasticity of the instrument with 
which they work enable the Germans to transfer the best works 
of other nations almost verbatim to their literature, — witness 
their translations of Shakspeare, in which the very puns are 
inimitably hit off j whilst our best translations are good only on 
a principle of compensation : the authors omit a great many of 
the beauties of their original, and, by way of set-off; insert a 
great many of their own. In Mr. Coleridge's " Wallenstein," 
for example : 

"The intelligible forms of ancient poets, 
The fair humanities of old religion, 
The Power, the Beauty, and the Majesty ; 
That had their haunts in dale, or piny mountain, 
Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring, 
Or chasms and wat'ry depths ; all these have vanished, 
They live no longer in the faith of reason. 55 

These seven lines are a beautiful amplification of two ; 

" Die alten Fabelwesen, sind nicht mehr, 
Das reizende Geschlecht ist ausgewandert." 

Literally, 

" The old fable-existences are no more, 
The fascinating race has emigrated. " 



With regard to the dispute about free and literal translation, 



14 



PREFACE. 



however, Mrs. Austin, by one happy reference, has satisfacto- 
rily determined the principle, and left nothing but the application 
in each individual case to dispute about. * 

" It appears to me that Goethe alone (so far as I have seen) 
has solved the problem . In his usual manner he turned the 
subject on all sides, and saw that there are two aims of trans- 
lation, perfectly distinct, nay. opposed ; and that the merit of 
a work of this kind is to be judged of entirely with reference to 
its aim. 

" 1 There are two maxims of translation,' says he ; ' the one 
requires that the author of a foreign nation be brought to us in 
such a manner that we may regard him as our own ; the other, 
on the contrary, demands of us that we transport ourselves 
over to him, and adopt his situation, his mode of speaking, his 
peculiarities. The advantages of both are sufficiently known 
to all instructed persons from masterly examples.' 

" Here, then, ' the battle between free and literal translation,' 
as the accomplished writer of an article in the last Edinburgh 
Review calls it, is set at rest forever, by simply showing that 
there is nothing to fight about ; that each is good with relation 
to its end — the one when matter alone is to be transferred, the 
other when matter and form." — [Characteristics of Goethe, cj-c. 
vol. i. pp. xxxii. to xxxiv.] 

Few will deny that both matter and form are important in 
Goethe's Faust j in such a case we want to know, not what 
may be said for the author, or how his thoughts and style may 
be improved upon, but what he himself has said, and how he 
has said it. This brings me to another notion of mine, which 
has been rather unceremoniously condemned. At page Ixxxix. 
of my original preface I had said : — " Acting on this theory, 
he (31. Sainte-Aulaire) has given a clear and spirited, but 
vague and loose, paraphrase of the poem, instead of a transla- 
tion of it ; invariably shunning the difficulties which various 
meanings present, by boldly deciding upon one, instead of try- 
ing to shadow out all of them — which I regard as one of the 
highest triumphs a translator can achieve — and avoiding the 
charge of incorrectness by making it almost impossible to say 
whether the best construction has suggested itself or not." On 
this, the able critic in the "Edinburgh Review" remark: : — 



PREFACE. 



15 



" Mr. Hayward says, that one of the highest triumphs of a 
translator, in a passage capable of various meaning, is to 
shadow out them all. In reply to this, our first remark is, that 
his own practice, according to his own account of it, is incon- 
sistent with his rule. In the course of his inquiries he says, 
that ' he has not unfrequently had three or four different inter- 
pretations suggested to him by as many accomplished German 
scholars, each ready to do battle for his own against the world.' 
"What then ? Does he say that he has attempted to shadow out 
them all ? So far from it, he insists — we dare say with jus- 
tice — that readers who may miss their favorite interpretation 
in his version of any passage, are bound to give him the credit 
of having wilfully < rejected it.' "—No. 115, p. 133. 

The writer here confounds attempting to do, with doing ; and 
contrasts, as inconsistent, passages referring to different descrip- 
tions of difficulties. The following is an example of my theory. 
At the beginning of the prison scene, (post, p. 207,) occurs this 
puzzling line : 

"Fort ! dein zagen zogert den Tod heran." 

Two interpretations, neither quite satisfactory, are suggested 
to me ; it may mean either that death is advancing whilst Faust 
remains irresolute, or that death is accelerated by his irresolu- 
tion. Having, therefore, first ascertained that the German word 
zbgern corresponds with the English word linger, and that, in 
strictness, neither could be used as an active verb, I translated 
the passage literally : " On ! thy irresolution lingers death 
hitherwards and thus "shadowed out the same meanings, and 
gave the same scope to commentary, as the original. Of course, 
this is only practicable where exactly corresponding expressions 
can be had ; for instance, in the passage to which the note at 
p. 201 relates, we have no corresponding expression for Das 
Werdende, and must therefore be content with a paraphrase ; 
but, in the latter part of the same passage, I see no reason for 
Shelley's changing enduring (the plain translation of dauernden) 
into sweet and melancholy, nor for M. Sainte-Aulaire's rendering 
the two last lines of the speech by — et soumettez, a Vepreuve de 
fa s&gesse les fantbmes que de vagues desirs vous presentent, thereby 



16 



PREFACE. 



gaining nothing in point of perspicuity, when he had corre- 
sponding French expressions at his command. Not unfrequently 
the literal meaning of a word (as in ein dunkler Ehrenman) or 
the grammatical construction of a passage (as in Doch hast Du 
Speise, fyc.) is disputed j and, as it is impossible to construe 
two ways at once, in such instances rejection is unavoidable. 
I was thinking of these when I spoke of having not unfre- 
quently had three or four different interpretations suggested 
to me. 

This may suffice to show the practicability of my theory in 
the only cases I meant it to embrace. It may be useful to 
show by an instance how much mischief may result from the 
neglect of it. The alchymical description, as explained by Mr. 
Griffiths, (p. 220,) has been generally regarded as a valuable 
illustration of the literary peculiarities of Goethe. Now all 
preceding translators, considering it as rubbish, had skipped, 
or paraphrased, or mistranslated it j so that the French or Eng- 
lish reader, however well acquainted with alchymical terms, 
could have made nothing of it. I was as much in the dark 
as my predecessors ; but I thought that there might be some- 
thing in it, though I could see nothing; I therefore translated 
the passage word for word, and then sent it to Mr. Griffiths. 
His very interesting explanation was the consequence. This 
may be called an extreme case, but it shows the folly of ex- 
cluding or altering plain words because we ourselves are unable 
at the moment to interpret them ; and as a fact within my own 
immediate experience, I may add that expressions seemingly 
indifferent in their proper places, so frequently supply the key 
to subsequent allusions, that a translator always incurs the 
risk of breaking some link in the chain of association by a 
change. For instance, in my first edition, I followed Shelley 
in translating vereinzelt sich, — masses itself, under an idle no- 
tion that the context required it • and everybody thought me 
right, until Mr. Heraud (author of " The Descent into Hell," 
&c. &c.) proved to me that the most obvious signification 
(scatters itself) was the best, and that I had disconnected the 
following line, and marred the continuity of the whole descrip- 
tion, by the change. 

" I was wont boldly to affirm," says Mr. Coleridge, " that it 



PREFACE. 



17 



would be scarcely more difficult to push a stone out from the 
pyramids with the bare hand, than to alter a word, or the 
position of a word, in Shakspeare or Milton, (in their most 
important works, at least,) without making the author say 
something else or something worse, than he does say." This 
observation is strictly applicable to the First Part of Faust. 

Again, the most beautiful expressions in poetry (such expres- 
sions as Dante is celebrated for) are often in direct defiance of 
all rule and authority, and afford ample scope for cavilling. 
Is the translator to dilute or filter them, for fear of startling 
his reader by novelty or involving him in momentary doubt ? 
I am sorry to say that Mr. Coleridge has given some sanction 
to those who might be inclined to answer this question affirma- 
tively. After making Wallenstein exclaim : 

" This anguish will be wearied down, I know ; 
"What pang is permanent with man ? " 

he adds, in a note : — " A very inadequate translation of the 
original :" 

" Verschmerzen werd' ich diesen Schlag, das weiss ich, 
Denn was verschmerzte nichtder Mensch? " 

Literally : 

" I shall grieve down this blow, of that I 'm conscious ; 
What does not man grieve down ? " 

I trust my very high and constantly expressed admiration of 
Mr. Coleridge, will be held some apology for the presumption 
of the remark — but I really see no reason for excluding the 
literal translation from the text. # One of our most distin- 
guished men of letters, who knew the German poets only 
through translations, once complained to me that he seldom 
found them painting, or conveying a fine image, by a word ; 
as in the line — 

"How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon that bank ! " 

How should he, unless that mode of translation which I have 
thus ventured on vindicating, be pursued ? 

* Since this was written, the literal translation has been adopted. See the 
last edition of Coleridge's Works. 



18 



PREFACE. 



In Appendix, No. 1, I have added an analysis of the second 
and concluding part of Faust, just full enough to give a general 
notion of the plot, if plot it can be called, where plot is none. 
I have been recommended, both publicly and privately, to 
translate the whole, but it struck me that the scenes were too 
disconnected to excite much interest, and that the poetry had 
not substance enough to support a version into prose. As I 
have said already, in another place, # the Second Part presents 
few of those fine trains of philosophic thinking, or those ex- 
quisite touches of natural feeling, which form the great attrac- 
tion of the First. The principal charm will be found to consist 
in the idiomatic ease of the language, the spirit with w r hich the 
lighter measures are struck off, and the unrivalled beauty of 
the descriptive passages ; which last are to be found in equal 
number in both parts, but are the only passages of the con- 
tinuation which would bear transplanting without a ruinous 
diminution of effect. Besides, my own opinion is, that the 
First Part will henceforth be read, as formerly, by and for it- 
self: nor would I advise those who wish to enjoy it thoroughly, 
and retain the most favorable impression of it, to look at the 
Second Part at all. u Goethe's Faust should have remained 
a fragment. The heart-thrilling last scene of the First Part, 
Margaret's heavenly salvation, which w T orks so powerfully 
upon the mind, should have remained the last; as indeed, for 
sublimity and impressiveness, it perhaps stands alone in the 
whole circle of literature. It had a fine effect, — how Faust, 
in the manner of the spirits that flitted around him, disap- 
peared, — how mists veiled him from our sight, given over to 
inexorable Destiny, on whom, hidden from us, the duty of 
condemning or acquitting him devolved. The spell is now 
broken."! 

In Appendix, No. 2, will be found an account of the Story 
of Faust, and the various productions in art and literature that 
have grown out of it. 

*The u Foreign Quarterly Review," No. 23, Art. 4. 
f Stieglitz, Sage vom Doctor Faust. 

Temple, January, 1834. 



ADVERTISEMENT 

PREFIXED TO 

THE FIRST PUBLISHED EDITION. 



I commenced this translation without the slightest idea of 
publishing it, and even when, by aid of preface and notes, I 
thought I had produced a book which might contribute some- 
thing towards the promotion of German literature in this country, 
I still felt unwilling to cast it from me beyond the power of 
alteration or recall. I therefore circulated the whole of the first 
edition amongst my acquaintance, and made up my mind to be 
guided by the general tenor of the opinions I might receive 
from them. I also wished the accuracy of my version to be 
verified by as many examinations as possible, and I hoped to 
get some additional matter for the notes. " The complete ex- 
planation of an author (says Dr. Johnson) not systematic and 
consequential, but desultory and vagrant, abounding in casual 
allusions and light hints, is not to be expected from any single 
scholiast. What can be known will be collected by chance 
from the recesses of obscure and obsolete papers, (or from rare 
and curious books,) perused commonly with some other view. 
Of this knowledge every man has some, and none has much ; 
but when an author has engaged the public attention, those 
who can add anything to his illustration, communicate their 
discoveries, and time produces what had eluded diligence.- 1 ' 

The result of the experiment has been so far satisfactory, that 
I am now emboldened to lay the work before the public, with 
some not unimportant alterations and additions suggested by 
subsequent inquiry or by friends. 

Temple, Feb. 25th, 1833. 



TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE 



[to the edition printed for private circulation.] 



The outline of Faust's story is already familiar enough, and 
I have given all that I think necessary in the way of illustration 
or commentary in the notes. In this place, therefore, I have 
principally to explain the motives which led to the following 
hazardous, and, some may think, presumptuous undertaking. 

It was first suggested to me by a remark made by Mr. 
Charles Lamb to an honored friend of mme, # that he had de- 
rived more pleasure from the meagre Latin versions of the 
Greek tragedians, than from any other versions of them he was 
acquainted with. The following remarks by Goethe himself 
confirmed me in it : — 

" We Germans had the advantage that several significant 
works of foreign nations were first translated in an easy and 
clear manner. Shakspeare, translated into prose, first by 
Wieland, then by Eschenburg, being a reading generally intel- 
ligible ^and adapted to every reader, was enabled to spread 
rapidly, and produce a great erTect. I honor both rhythm and 
rhyme, by which poetry first becomes poetry; but the properly 
deep and radically operative, — the truly developing and quick- 
ening, is that which remains of the poet when he is translated 
into prose. The inward substance then remains in its purity 
and fulness j which, when it is absent, a dazzling exterior often 



*The Rev. H. F. Gary, translator of Dante and Pindar. 



PREFACE. 



21 



deludes us with the semblance of, and, when it is present, con- 
ceals. J ' # 

This will be admitted to be very high authority in favor of 
occasional prose translations of poetry j and I think no one who 
knows Faust will deny, that it is the poem of all others of which 
a prose translation is most imperatively required, — for the 
simple reason, that it teems with thought, and has long exer- 
cised a widely-spread influence by qualities independent of 
metre and rhyme. I am not aware that I can illustrate my 
meaning better than by the following extract from a German 
Review. f It forms part of a critical notice of a work by M. 
Rosenkranz, and (with all its exaggeration and enthusiasm) 
may be taken as a fair sample of the light in which Faust is 
considered in Germany : — 

" The various attempts to continue the infinite matter of 
Faust where Goethe drops it, although in themselves fruitless 
and unsuccessful, at least show in what manifold ways this 
great poem may be conceived, and how it presents a different 
side to every individuality. As the sunbeam breaks itself dif- 
ferently in every eye, and the starred heaven and nature are 
different for every soul-mirror, so is it with this immeasurable 
and exhaustless poem. We have seen illustrators and contin- 
ues of Faust, who, captivated by the practical wisdom which 
pervades it, considered the whole poem as one great collection 
of maxims of life ; we have met with others who saw nothing 
else in it but a pantheistical solution of the enigma of existence ; 
others again, more alive to the genius of poetry, admired only 
the poetical clothing of the ideas, which otherwise seemed to 
them to have little significance ; and others, again, saw nothing 
peculiar but the felicitous exposition of a philosophical theory, 
and the specification of certain errors of practical life. All 

* Aus meinem Leben : Dicktung und Wahrheit. — Th. iii. b. 11. Hardly 
a single sentence of the English version, published under the title of "Me- 
moirs of Goethe, ' ; is to be depended upon. The translation of Shakspeare, 
mentioned by Goethe, was originally undertaken by Wieland, who, accord- 
ing to Griiber, was paid at the rate of two Thalers (six shillings) per sheet. 
He completed twenty-two of the plays : which were afterwards republished 
by Eschenburg, with the rest translated by himself. 

t Die Blatter fur Liter arische Unterhaltung- Leipzig. 



22 



PREFACE. 



these are right ; for from all these points of view Faust is great 
and significant ; but whilst it appears to follow these several 
directions as radiations from a focus, at the same time it contains 
(but for the most part concealed) its peculiar, truly great, and 
principal direction ; and this is the reconcilement of the great 
contradiction of the world, the establishment of peace between 
the Real and the Ideal. No one who loses sight of this, the 
great foundation of Faust, will find himself in a condition — 
we do not say to explain or continue, but even to read and 
comprehend the poem. This principal basis underlies all its 
particular tendencies — the religious, the philosophical, the 
scientific, the practical ; and for this very reason is it, that the 
theologian, the scholar, the soldier, the man of the world, and 
the student of philosophy, to whatever school he may belong, 
are all sure of finding something to interest them in this all- 
embracing production." 

Surely a work of which this, or anything like it, can be said, 
deserves to be translated as literally as the genius of our lan- 
guage will admit ; with an almost exclusive reference to the 
strict meaning of the words, and a comparative disregard of the 
beauties which are commonly thought peculiar to poetry, should 
they prove irreconcilable with the sense. I am not saying that 
they will prove so, for the noblest conceptions and most beauti- 
ful descriptions in Faust would be noble and beautiful in any 
language capable of containing them, be it as unmusical and 
harsh as it would, — 

" As sunshine broken on a rill, 
Though turned astray, is sunshine still." 

Still less am I saying that such a translation would be the 
best, or should be the only one. But I venture to think that 
it may possess some interest and utility now ; when, at the 
distance of nearly half a century from the first appearance of 
the work, nothing at all approximating to an accurate version 
of it exists. With, one or two exceptions, all attempts by for- 
eigners (foreigners as regards Germany, I mean) to translate 
even solitary scenes or detached passages from Faust, are 
crowded with the most extraordinary mistakes, not of words 



PREFACE. 



23 



merely, but of spirit and tone ; and the author's fame has suf- 
fered accordingly. For no warnings on the part of those who 
know and would fain manifest the truth, can entirely obviate 
the deteriorating influence of such versions on the mind. " I 
dare say/' the reader replies, " that what you tell me about 
this translation may be right, but the author's meaning can 
hardly be so obscured or perverted as to prevent my forming 
some notion of his powers." 

Now I print this translation with the view of proving to a 
certain number of my literary friends, and through them per- 
haps to the public at large, that they have hitherto had nothing 
from which they can form a just estimate of Faust j and with 
this view, and this view only, I shall prefix a few remarks on 
the English and French translators who have preceded me. 

[Here followed remarks on Lord Francis Egerton, Shelley, 
the author of the translation published with the English edition 
of Retzsch's " Outlines," the author of the translated passages 
in " Blackwood's Magazine," No. 39, (Dr. Anster,) Madame 
de Stael, and MM. de Sainte-Aulaire, Stapfer, and Gerard. 
These remarks are omitted because their original purpose has 
been fulfilled.] 

My main object in these criticisms is to shake, if not remove, 
the very disadvantageous impressions that have hitherto been 
prevalent of Faust, and keep public opinion suspended con- 
cerning Goethe till some poet of congenial spirit shall arise, 
capable of doing justice to this, the most splendid and interest- 
ing of his works. By my translation, also, I shall be able to 
show what he is not, though it will be quite impossible for 
me to show what he is. "II me reste (says M. Stapfer) a pro- 
tester contre ceux qui, apres la lecture de cette traduction, 
s'imagineraient avoir acquis une idee complete de 1' original. 
Porte sur tel ouvrage traduit que ce soit, le jugement serait 
errone ; il le serait surtout a l'egard de celui-ci, a cause de la 
perfection continue du style. Quon se figure tout le charme 
de 1' Amphitryon de Moliere joint a ce que les poesies de Parny 
offrent de plus gracieux, alors seulement on pourra se croire 
dispense ae le lire." If I do not say something of this sort, it 
is only because I cannot decide with what English names Mo- 
liere and Parny would be most aptly replaced. The merely 



24 



PREFACE. 



English reader, however, will perhaps take my simple assur- 
ance, that, from the admitted beauty of Goethe's versification, 
no writer loses more by being submitted to the crucible of prose ; 
though, at the same time, very few writers can afford to lose so 
much ; as Dryden said of Shakspeare, if his embroideries were 
burnt down, there would still be silver at the bottom of the 
melting-pot. The bloom-like beauty of the songs, in particu- 
lar, vanishes at the bare touch of a translator j as regards 
these, therefore, I may as well own at once that I am inviting 
my friends to a sort of Barmecide entertainment, where fancy 
must supply all the materials for banqueting. I have one com- 
fort, however ; the poets have hitherto tried their hands at them 
in vain, and I am backed by very high authority in declaring 
the most beautiful — " Meine Ruh 1 ist hin " — to be utterly un- 
translatable. Indeed, it is only by a lucky chance that a suc- 
cession of simple heartfelt expressions or idiomatic felicities in 
one language, are ever capable of exact representation in 
another. Two passages already quoted appear well adapted to 
exemplify what I mean. When Margaret exclaims : — 

" Sag Neimand das du sction bey Gretchen warst," 

it is quite impossible to render in English the finely shaded 
meaning of bey. Here, therefore, Germany has the best of it ; 
but when we translate — 

" School war ich audi, und das war mein verderben" 

"I was fair too, and that was my undoing,''' — we greatly im- 
prove upon the original, and add a delicacy which I defy any 
German to imitate j for the applicability of verderben in so 
many other places, completely spoils its peculiar fitness for this. 

My only object in giving a sort of rhythmical arrangement to 
the lyrical parts, was to convey some notion of the variety of 
versification which forms one great charm of the poem. The 
idea was first suggested to me by Milton's translation of the 
"Ode to Pyrrha," entitled: " Quis multd gracillis te puer in 
rosd, rendered almost word for word, without rhyme, according to 
the Latin measure, as near as the language will admit." But I 
have seldom, if ever, made any sacrifice of sense for the pur- 



PREFACE. 



25 



pose of rounding a line in the lyrics, or a period in the regular 
prose ; proceeding throughout on the rooted conviction, that, if 
a translation such as mine be not literal, it is valueless. By 
literal, however, must be understood, merely that I have en- 
deavored to convey the precise meaning of G-oethe ; an object 
often best attainable by preserving the exact form of expression 
employed by him, unless, indeed, it be an exclusively national 
one. Even then I have not always rejected it j for one great 
advantage to be anticipated from such translations is the natu- 
ralization of some of those pregnant modes of expression in 
which the German language is so remarkably rich. Idioms, of 
course, belong to a wholly different category. My remarks 
apply only to those phrases and compounds where nothing is 
wanting to make an Englishman perfectly au fait of them, but 
to think out the full meaning of the words. In all such cases, 
I translate literally, in direct defiance of those sagacious critics, 
who expect to catch the spirit of a work of genius as dogs lap 
water from the Nile, and vote a G-erman author unreadable, 
unless all his own and his country's peculiarities are planed 
away. In short, my theory is, that if the English reader, not 
knowing German, be made to stand in the same relation to 
Faust as the English reader, thoroughly acquainted with Ger- 
man, stands in towards it — that is, if the same impressions 
be conveyed through the same sort of medium, whether bright 
or dusky, coarse or fine — the very extreme point of a trans- 
lator's duty has been attained. 

But, though pretty confident of the correctness of this theory, 
I am . far from certain that my practice uniformly accords 
with it — 

" Video meliora proboque } 
Deteriora sequor " — 

I cannot deny that I have often been driven to a paraphrase by 
necessity, and sometimes seduced into one by indolence. As 
the translation, however, has been executed at leisure moments, 
was finished many months ago, and has undergone the care- 
ful revisal of friends, I think I can answer for its general 
accuracy ; but in a work so crowded with elliptical and idio- 
matic, nay, even provincial modes of expression, and containing 



26 



PREFACE. 



so many doubtful allusions , as Faust, it is morally impossible 
to guard against individual errors, or what, at any rate, may 
be represented as such, by those who will not give the translator 
credit for having weighed and rejected the constructions they 
may chance to prefer. In the course of my inquiries, I have 
not ^infrequently had three or four different interpretations sug- 
gested to me by as many accomplished German scholars, each 
ready to do battle for his own against the world. There are also 
some few meanings which all reasonable people confess them- 
selves unable to un-earth. — or rather, un-heaven ; for it is by 
rising, not sinking, that Goethe leaves his readers behind ■ and, 
in nearly all such instances, we respect, despite of our embar- 
rassment, the aspirations of a master-mind, soaring proudly up 
into the infinite unknown, and, though failing possibly in the 
full extent of its aims, yet bringing back rich tokens of its 
flight. 

Faust has never yet been published with notes, with the 
exception of a very few added to the French translations, in 
which none of the real difficulties are removed. I have en- 
deavored to supply this deficiency by bringing together all the 
information I could collect amongst an extensive circle of 
German acquaintance. I have also ransacked all the com- 
mentaries I could get, though nothing can be more unsatis- 
factory than the result. They are almost exclusively filled 
with trashy amplifications of the text, not unfrequently dilating 
into chapters what Goethe had condensed in a line. I have 
named the whole of them in an Appendix. That of Dr. Schu- 
bart is said to be the only one which ever received any token 
of approbation from Goethe. A few parallel passages from 
English poets will also be found in the notes. They are merely 
such as incidentally suggested themselves ; except, indeed, that 
I reread the greater part of Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Shel- 
ley, during the progress of the undertaking. 

I fear it will be quite impossible for me to acknowledge all 
the assistance I have received, but there are a few kind cooper- 
ators whom I think it a duty to name, though without their 
knowledge, and perhaps contrary to their wish. 

I certainly owe most to my old master and friend, Mr. Heil- 
ner, whose consummate critical knowledge of both languages 



PREFACE. 



27 



enabled him to afford me the most effective aid in disentan- 
gling the perplexities of the work ; and to my friend, Mr. Hills, 
one of the best German scholars I know, in whose richly stored 
mind and fine taste I found a perfect treasure-house of all that 
is most beautiful in the most beautiful creations of genius, and 
an almost infallible criterion of propriety. But it is also with 
pride and pleasure that I offer my best acknowledgments for 
very valuable aid to — Mrs. John Austin, the elegant translator 
of the " German Prince's Tour;" Dr. Bernays, Professor of the 
German Language and Literature at King's College, and one 
of those who have reflected most honor on that Institution by 
their works ; my clever and warm-hearted friend, Mr. Heller, 
Attache to the Prussian Embassy ; Mr. A. Troppaneger, a Ger- 
man gentleman of learning and taste now residing in London ; 
Dr. Jacob Grimm, the first philologist of this or perhaps of any 
age, and an eminently successful cultivator of the most inter- 
esting department of German literature besides; and last, not 
least, A. W. von Schlegel, whose enduring claims to general 
admiration are at once too various to be easily enumerated, and 
too well known to need enumerating. There is yet another 
highly distinguished friend, whose name I should have been 
enabled to add, had not his regretted absence in a foreign coun- 
try deprived me of it. When I reflect how much I owed to 
him, on a former occasion of the kind, I cannot contemplate the 
omission without a pang. # 

In conclusion, I have only to say, that, as I followed no one 
implicitly, my friends are not answerable for my mistakes ; 
and that I shall be much obliged to any one who will suggest 
any amendment in the translation or any addition to the notes, 
as at some future time I may reprint or publish the work. 

Temple, January 5th ; 1833. 

*I allude to Mr. G. C. Lewis, Translator of Boekh's "Domestic Policy 
of the Athenians," and (with Mr. H. Tuffnell) Miiller's " History of the 
Dorians." He looked over my translation from Savigny for me. 



DEDICATION. 



Ye approach again, ye wavering shapes, which once, in the 
morning of life, presented yourselves to my troubled view ! 
Shall I try, this time, to hold you fast? Do I feel my heart 
still inclined towards that delusion ? Ye crowd upon me ! 
Well, then, ye may hold dominion over me, as ye rise around 
out of vapor and mist. My bosom feels youthfully agitated by 
the magic breath which atmospheres your train. 

Ye bring with you the images of happy days, and many 
loved shades arise : like to an old half-expired tradition, rises 
First-love, with Friendship, in their company. The pang is 
renewed ; the plaint repeats the labyrinthine mazy course of 
life, and names the dear ones, who, cheated of fair hours by 
fortune, have vanished away before me. 

They hear not the following lays — the souls to whom I sang 
my first. 1 Dispersed is the friendly throng — the first echo, 
alas ! has died away. My sorrow voices itself to the stranger 
man3^ : their very applause makes my heart sick ; and all that 
in other days was gladdened by my song, if still living, strays 
scattered through the world. 

And a yearning, long unfelt, for that quiet, pensive Spirit- 
realm seizes me. 'Tis hovering even now, in half- formed 
tones, — my lisping lay, like the JEolian harp. A tremor 
seizes me ; tear follows tear ; the austere heart feels itself 
growing mild and soft. What I have, I see as in the distance - } 
and what is gone, becomes a reality to me. 



PROLOGUE FOR THE THEATRE. 2 



Manager — Theatre-Poet — Merryman. 



Manager. 

Ye two, who have so often stood by me in need and tribula- 
tion, say, what hopes do you happen to entertain of our under- 
taking upon German ground ? I wish very much to please the 
multitude, particularly because it lives and lets live. The 
posts, the boards, are put up, and every one looks forward to a 
feast. There they sit already, cool, with elevated brows, and 
would fain be set a-wondering. I know how the spirit of the 
people is propitiated ; yet I have never been in such a dilemma 
as now. True, they are not accustomed to the best, but they 
have read a terrible deal. How shall we manage it — that all 
be fresh and new, and pleasing and instructive, at once ? 3 For 
assuredly I like to see the multitude, when the stream rushes 
towards our booth, and, with powerfully-repeated undulations, 
forces itself through the narrow portal of grace — when, in 
broad daylight, already before four, they elbow their way to 
the paying-place, and risk breaking their necks for a ticket, as 
in a famine at bakers' doors for bread. It is the poet only 
that works this miracle on people so various — oh ! do it, my 
friend, to-day ! 

Poet. 

Oh ! speak not to me of that motley multitude, at whose very 
aspect one's spirit takes flight. Veil from me that undulating 



PROLOGUE FOR THE THEATRE. 



31 



throng, which sucks us, against our will, into the whirlpool. 
No ! conduct me to the quiet, heavenly nook, where alone 
pure enjoyment blooms for the poet — where love and friend- 
ship, with godlike hand, create and cherish the blessings of the 
heart. Ah ! what there hath gushed from us in the depths of 
the breast, what the lip stammered tremblingly to itself — now 
failing, and now perchance succeeding — the wild moment's 
sway swallows up. Often only when it has endured through 
years, does it appear in perfected form. What glitters, is born 
for the moment ; what is genuine, remains unlost to posterity. 

Merryman. 

If I could but hear no more about posterity ! Suppose I 
chose to talk about posterity, who then would make fun for 
contemporaries ? That they will have — and ought to have it. 
The presence of a gallant lad, too, is always something, I 
should think. Who knows how to impart himself agreeably, 
he will never be irritated by popular caprice. He desires a 
large circle, to agitate it the more certainly. Then do but try 
your best, and show yourself a model. Let Fancy, with all 
her choruses — Reason, Understanding, Feeling, Passion, but 
— mark me well — not without Folly, be heard. 

Manager. 

But, most particularly, let there be incident enough. People 
come to look ; 4 their greatest pleasure is to see. If much is 
spun off before their eyes, so that the many can gape with 
astonishment, you have then gained in breadth immediately ; 
you are a great favorite. You can only subdue the mass by 
mass. Each eventually picks out something for himself. Who 
brings much will bring something to many a one, 5 and all 
leave the house content. If you give a piece, give it at once 
in pieces ! With such a hash, you cannot but succeed. It is 
easily served out, — as easily as invented. What avails it to 
present a whole ? The public will pull it to pieces for you, 
notwithstanding. 

Poet. 

You feel not the baseness of such a handicraft ; how little 



32 



PROLOGUE FOR THE THEATRE. 



that becomes the true artist ! The daubing of these fine sparks, 
I see, is already a maxim with you. 

Manager. 

Such a reproof does not mortify me at all. A man who in- 
tends to work properly must take care to have the best tool. 
Consider, you have soft wood to split j and only look whom you 
are writing for ! Whilst one is driven by ennui, the other comes 
satiated from an overloaded table j and, what is worst of all, 
very many a one comes from reading the newspapers. People 
hurry dissipated to us, as to masquerades ; and cariosity only 
wings every step. The ladies give themselves and their finery 
as a treat, and play with us without pay. What are you dream- 
ing about on your poetical height ? What is it that makes a 
full house merry ? Look closely at your patrons ! Half are 
cold, half raw. The one looks forward to a game of cards after 
the play j the other, to a wild night on the bosom of a wench. 
Why, poor fools that ye are, do ye plague the sweet Muses for 
such an end ? I tell you, only give more and more, and more 
again ; thus you can never be wide of your mark. Try only 
to mystify the people ; to satisfy them is hard — What is come 
to you ? Delight or pain ? 

Poet. 

Begone, and seek thyself another servant ! 6 The poet, for- 
sooth, is wantonly to sport away for thy sake the highest right, 
the right of man, which Nature bestows upon him ! By what 
stirs he every heart ? By what subdues he every element ? Is 
it not the harmony — which bursts from out his breast, and 
sucks the world back again into his heart ? When Nature, 
carelessly winding, forces the thread's interminable length upon 
the spindle j when the confused multitude of all Beings jangles 
out of tune and harsh, — who, life -infusing, so disposes the 
ever equably-flowing series that it moves rhythmically ? Who 
calls the Individual to the general consecration, where it 
strikes in glorious accords? Who bids the tempest rage to 
passions ? the evening-red glow in the pensive spirit ? Who 
scatters on the loved one's path all beauteous blossomings of 
spring ? Who wreathes the unmeaning green leaves into a gar- 



PROLOGUE FOR THE THEATRE. 



33 



land of honor for deserts of all kinds ? Who insures Olympus ? 
— associates gods ? Man's power revealed in the Poet. 

Merryman. 

Employ these fine powers then, and carry on your poetical 
affairs as one carries on a love adventure. Accidentally one 
approaches, one feels, one stays ; and little by little, one gets 
entangled. The happiness increases, — then it is disturbed; 
one is delighted, — then comes distress • and before one is 
aware of it, it is even a romance. Let us also give a play in 
this manner. Do but grasp into the thick of human life! 
Every one lives it, — to not many is it known 5 and seize 
it where you will, it is interesting. Little clearness in motley 
images ! much falsehood and a spark of truth ! 7 this is the way 
to brew the best liquor, which refreshes and edifies all the 
world. Then assembles youth's fairest flower to see your play, 
and listens to the revelation. Then every gentle mind sucks 
melancholy nourishinent for itself from out your work ; then 
one while this, and one while that, is stirred up ; each one sees 
what he carries in his heart. They are as yet equally ready to 
weep and to laugh ; they still honor the soaring, are pleased 
with the glitter. One who is formed there is no such thing as 
pleasing ; one who is forming will always be grateful. 

Poet. 

Then give me back again the times when I myself was still 
forming ; when a fountain of crowded lays sprang freshly and 
unbrokenly forth ; when mists veiled the world before me, — 
the bud still promised miracles ; v/hen I gathered the thousand 
flowers which profusely filled all the dales ! I had nothing, and 
yet enough — the longing after truth, and the pleasure in delu- 
sion ! G-ive me back those impulses untamed — the deep, pain- 
fraught happiness, the energy of hate, the might of love ! — - 
Give me back my youth ! 

Merkyman. 

Youth, my good friend, you want, indeed, when foes press 
you hard in the fight, — when the loveliest of lasses cling with 
ardor round your neck, — when, from afar, the garland of the 
swift course beckons from the hard-won goal, — when, after the 



34 



PROLOGUE FOR THE THEATRE. 



dance's maddening whirl, one drinks away the night carousing. 
But to strike the familiar lyre with spirit and grace, to sweep 
along, with happy wanderings, towards a self-appointed aim ; 
— that, old gentleman, is ) r our duty, 8 and we honor you not 
the less on that account. Old age does not make childish, as 
men say ; it only finds us still as true children, 

Manager. 

"Words enough have been interchanged j let me now see 
deeds also. Whilst you are turning compliments, something 
useful may be done. What boots it to stand talking about 
being in the vein? The hesitating never is so. If ye once give 
yourselves out for poets, command poesy. You well know 
what we want j we would sip strong drink — now brew away 
immediately ! What is not doing to-day, is not done to-mor- 
row. No day should be wasted in dallying. Eesolution should 
boldly seize the possible by the forelock at once. She will then 
not let it go, and works on because she cannot help it. 

You know, upon our German stage, every one tries what he 
likes. Therefore spare me neither scenery nor machinery upon 
this day. Use the greater and the lesser light of heaven ; 9 you 
are free to squander the stars j there is no want of water, fire, 
rocks, beasts, and birds. So tread in this narrow booth the 
whole circle of creation j and travel, with considerate speed, 
from Heaven, through the World, to Hell. 



FAUST, 



PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN. 10 

The Lord; the Heavenly Hosts; 
afterwards Mephistophel.es. 

The Three Archangels come fomuard. 
Raphael. 

The sun chimes in, as ever, with the emulous music of 
his brother spheres, 11 and performs his prescribed journey 
with thunder-speed. His aspect gives strength to the 
angels, though none can fathom him. Thy inconceiv- 
ably sublime works are glorious as on the first day. 

Gabriel. 

And rapid, inconceivably rapid, the pomp of the earth 
revolves ; the brightness of paradise alternates with deep, 
fearful night. The sea foams up in broad waves at the 
deep base of the rocks ; and rock and sea are whirled on 
in the ever rapid course of the spheres. 

Michael. 

And storms are roaring as if in rivalry, from sea to 
land, from land to sea, and form all around a chain of 
the deepest ferment in their rage. There, flashing deso- 
lation flares before the path of the thunder-clap. But 
thy messengers, Lord, respect the mild going of thy 
day. 12 

3 



36 



FAUST. 



The Three. 

Thy aspect gives strength to the angels, though none 
can fathom thee, and all thy sublime works are glorious 
as on the first day. 

Mephistopheles. 
Since, Lord, you approach once again, and inquire 
how things are going on with us, and on other occasions 
were not displeased to see me — therefore is it that you 
see me also amongst your suite. Excuse me, I cannot 
talk fine, not though the whole circle should cry scorn 
on me. My pathos would certainly make you laugh, 
had you not left off laughing. I have nothing to say 
about suns and worlds ; I only mark how men are 
plaguing themselves. The little god of the world con- 
tinues ever of the same stamp, and is as odd as on the 
first day. He would lead a somewhat better life of it, 
had you not given him a glimmering of heaven's light. 
He calls it reason, and uses it only to be the most brutal 
of brutes. He seems to me, with your Grace's leave, 
like one of the long-legged grasshoppers, which is ever 
flying, and bounding as it flies, and then sings its old 
song in the grass ; — and would that he did but lie 
always in the grass ! He thrusts his nose into every 
puddle. 

The Lord. 

Have you nothing else to say to me ? Are you al- 
ways coming to me for no other purpose than to com- 
plain ? Is nothing ever to your liking upon earth ? 
Mephistopheles. 

No, Lord ! I find things there, as ever, miserably bad. 
Men, in their days of wretchedness, move my pity ; even 
I myself have not the heart to torment the poor things. 



FAUST. 



37 



The Lord. 
Do you know Faust ? 

Mephistopheles. 

The Doctor ? 

The Lord. 

My servant ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Verily ! he serves you after a fashion of his own. 
The fool's meat and drink are not of earth. The fer- 
ment of his spirit impels him towards the far away. He 
himself is half conscious of his madness. Of heaven — 
he demands its brightest stars ; and of earth — its every 
highest enjoyment; and all the near, and all the far, 
content not his deeply-agitated breast. 

The Lord. 

Although he does but serve me in perplexity now, I 
shall soon lead him into light. When the tree buds, the 
gardener knows that blossom and fruit will deck the 
coming years. 

Mephistopheles. 
What will you wager ? you shall lose him yet, if you 
give me leave to guide him quietly my own way. 

The Lord. 

So long as he lives upon the earth, so long be it not 
forbidden to thee. Man is liable to error, whilst his 
struggle lasts. 

Mephistopheles. 
I am much obliged to you for that ; for I have never 
had any fancy for the dead. I like plump, fresh cheeks 



38 



FAUST. 



the best. I am not at home to a corpse. I am like the 
cat with the mouse. 

The Lord. 

Enough, it is permitted thee. Divert this spirit from 
his original source, and bear him, if thou canst seize him, 
down on thy own path with thee. And stand abashed, 
when thou art compelled to own — a good man, in his 
dark strivings, may still be conscious of the right way. 13 

Me PHISTOPHE LE S . 

Well, well, — only it w^ill not last long. I am not at 
all in pain for my wager. Should I succeed, excuse my 
triumphing with my whole soul. Dust shall he eat, and 
with a relish, like my cousin, the renowned snake. 

The Lord. 

There also you are free to act as you like. I have 
never hated the like of you. Of all the spirits that deny, 
the scoffer is the least offensive to me. 14 Man's activity 
is all too prone to slumber : he soon gets fond of uncon- 
ditional repose ; I am therefore glad to give him a com- 
panion, who stirs and works, and must, as devil, be doing. 
But ye, the true children of heaven, rejoice in the living 
profusion of beauty. The creative essence, 15 which works 
and lives through all time, embrace you within the happy 
bounds of love ; and what hovers in changeful seeming, 
do ye fix firm with everlasting thoughts. (Heaven closes, 
the Archangels disperse.) 

Mephistopheles alone. 
I like to see the Ancient One occasionally, 16 and take 
care not to break with him. I| is really civil in so great 
a Lord, to speak so kindly with the Devil himself. 



FAUST. 



NIGHT. 

Faust in a high-vaulted, narrow, Gothic chamber, seated 
restless at his desk. 17 

Faust. 

— have now, alas ! by zealous exertion, thoroughly 
mastered philosophy, the jurist's craft, and medicine, — 
and, to my sorrow, theology too. Here I stand, poor 
fool that I am, just as wise as before. I am called Mas- 
ter, ay, and Doctor, and have now for nearly ten years 
been leading my pupils about — up and down, cross- 
ways and crooked ways — by the nose ; and see that we 
can know nothing ! This it is that almost burns up the 
heart within me. 18 True, I am cleverer than all the sol- 
emn triflers — doctors, masters, writers, and priests, No 
doubts nor scruples of any sort trouble me ; I fear neither 
hell nor the devil. For this very reason is all joy torn 
from me. 19 I no longer fancy I know anything worth 
knowing ; I no longer fancy I could teach anything to 
better and convert mankind. Then I have neither land 
nor money, nor honor and rank in the world. No dog 
would like to live so any longer. I have therefore de- 
voted myself to magic — 20 whether, through the power 
and voice of the Spirit, many a mystery might not be- 
come known to me ; that I may no longer, with bitter 



40 FAUST. 

sweat, be obliged to speak of what I do not know ; that 
I may learn what it is that holds the world together in 
its inmost core, see all the springs and seeds of produc- 
tion, and drive no longer a paltry traffic in words. 

Oh ! would that thou, radiant moonlight, wert looking 
for the last time upon my misery; thou, for whom I 
have sat watching so many a midnight at this desk; 
then, over books and papers, melancholy friend, didst 
thou appear to me ! — Oh ! that I might wander on the 
mountain-tops in thy loved light — hover with spirits 
around the mountain caves — nit over the fields in thy 
glimmer, and, disencumbered from all the fumes of 
knowledge, bathe myself sound in thy dew ! 

Woe is me ! am I still penned up in this dungeon ? — 
accursed, musty, walled hole ! — where even the precious 
light of heaven breaks mournfully through painted panes, 
stinted by this heap of books, — which worms eat — dust 
begrimes — which, up to the very top of the vault, a 
smoke-smeared paper encompasses ; with glasses and 
boxes ranged round, with instruments piled up on all 
sides, ancestral lumber stuffed in with the rest ! This is 
thy world, and a precious world it is ! 

And dost thou still ask, why thy heart nutters so con- 
finedly in thy bosom ? — Why a vague aching deadens 
within thee every stirring principle of life ? — Instead of 
'" the animated nature, for which God made man, thou hast 
nought around thee but beasts' skeletons and dead men's 
bones, in smoke and mould. 

Up ! away ! out into the wide world ! And this mys- 
terious book, from Nostradamus' 21 own hand, is it not 
guide enough for thee ? Thou then knowest the course 
of the stars, and, when nature instructs thee, the soul's 
essence then rises up to thee, as one spirit speaks to 



FAUST. 



41 



another. Vain ! that dull poring here expounds the holy 
signs to thee ! Ye are hovering, ye Spirits, near me ; 
answer me, if you hear. 

(He opens the book and perceives the sign of the Ma- 
crocosm.) 22 

Ah ! what rapture thrills at once through all my senses 
at this sight! I feel a fresh, hallowed life-joy, new- 
glowing, shoot through nerve and vein. W as it a god 
that traced these signs ? — which still the storm within 
me, fill my poor heart with gladness, and, by a mystical 
inspiration, unveil the powers of nature all around me. 
Am I a god ? All grows so bright ! I see, in these pure 
lines, nature herself working in my soul's presence. 
Now for the first time do I conceive what the sage saith, 
— "The spirit-world is not closed. Thy sense is shut, 
thy heart is dead! Up, acolyte! 23 bathe, untired, thy 
earthly breast in the morning-red." 

(He contemplates the sign.) 

How all weaves itself into the whole ; one works and 
lives in the other. How heavenly influences ascend and 
descend, and reach each other the golden buckets, — on 
bliss-exhaling pinions, press from heaven through earth, 
all ringing harmoniously through the All. 24 

What a show ! but, ah ! a show only ! Where shall 
I seize thee, infinite nature ? Ye breasts, where ? ye 
sources of all life, on which hang heaven and earth, to- 
wards which the blighted breast presses — ye gush, ye 
suckle, and am I thus languishing in vain ? 

(He turns over the book indignantly, and sees the sign 
of the Spirit of the Earth.) 

How differently this sign affects me ! Thou, Spirit 
of the Earth, art nearer to me ! Already do I feel my 
energies exalted, already glow as with new wine ; I feel 



42 



FAUST. 



courage to venture into the world; to endure earthly- 
weal, earthly woe; to wrestle with storms, and stand 
unshaken mid the shipwreck's crash. — Clouds thicken 
over me ; the moon pales her light ; the lamp dies away ; 
exhalations arise ; red beams flash round my head ; a 
cold shuddering 25 flickers down from the vaulted roof and 
fastens on me! I feel it — thou art flitting round me, 
prayer-compelled Spirit. Unveil thyself ! Ah ! what a 
tearing in my heart — all my senses %re up-stirring to 
new sensations ! I feel my whole heart surrendered to 
thee. Thou must — thou must! — should it cost me my 
life. 

(He seizes the book and pronounces mystically the sign 
of the Spirit. A red jiame flashes up j the Spirit 
appears in the flame.) 

Spirit. 

Who calls for me ? 

Faust, (averting his face.) 
Horrible vision ! 

Spirit. 

Thou hast compelled me hither, by dint of long suck- 
ing at my sphere. And now — 

Faust. 

Torture ! I endure thee not. 

Spirit. 

Thou prayest, panting, to see me, to hear my voice, 
to gaze upon my face. Thy powerful invocation works 
upon me. I am here ! What a pitiful terror seizes 
thee, the demi-god ! Where is the soul's calling? 
Where the breast, that created a world in itself, and 
upbore and cherished it ? which, with tremors of delight, 



FAUST. 



43 



swelled to lift itself to a level with us, the Spirits. 
Where art thou, Faust? — whose voice rang to me, who 
pressed towards me with all his energies! Art thou 
he? 26 thou, who, at the bare perception of my breath, 
art shivering through all the depths of life, a trembling, 
writhing worm ? 

Faust. 

Shall I yield to thee, child of fire? I am he, am 
Faust, thy equal. 

Spirit. 
In the tides of life, 
In the storm of action, 
I am tossed up and down, 
I drift hither and thither, 
Birth and grave, 
An eternal sea, 
A changeful- weaving, 
A glowing life — 

Thus I work at the whizzing loom of time, 
And weave the living clothing of the Deity. 

Faust. 

Busy Spirit, thou who sweepest round the wide world, 
how near I feel to thee ! 

Spirit. 

Thou art mate for the spirit whom thou conceivest, 
not for me. (The Spirit vanishes.) 

Faust — collapsing. 
Not for thee ! For whom then ? I, the image of the 
Deity, and not mate for even thee ! 

(A k?wcking at the door.) 
Oh, death ! I know it : that is my amanuensis. My 



44 



FAUST. 



fairest fortune is turned to nought. That the unidea'd 
groveller must disturb this fulness of visions ! 

(Wagnee. 27 enters in his dressing-gown and night-cap, 
with a lamp in his hand. Faust turns round in dis- 
pleasure.) 

Wagnee. 

Excuse me — I hear you declaiming ; you were surely 
reading a Greek tragedy. I should like to improve my- 
self in this art, for now-a-days it influences a good deal. 
I have often heard say, a player might instruct a priest. 

Faust. 

Yes, when the priest is a player, as may likely 
enough come to pass occasionally. 

Wagner. 

Ah ! when a man is so confined to his study, and 
hardly sees the world of a holyday — hardly through a 
telescope, only from afar — how is he to lead it by per- 
suasion ? 

Faust. 

If you do not feel it, you will not get it by hunting for 
it, — if it does not gush from the soul, and subdue the 
hearts of all hearers with original delight. Sit at it for- 
ever — glue together — cook up a hash from the feast of 
others, and blow the paltry flames out of your own little 
heap of ashes ! You may gain the admiration of children 
and apes, if you have a stomach for it ; but you will never 
touch the hearts of others, if it does not flow fresh from 
your own. 

Wagxer. 

But it is elocution that makes the orator's success. 28 I 
feel well that I am still far behindhand. 



FAUST. 45 

Faust. 

Try what can be got by honest means. — Be no tink- 
ling fool ! — Keason and good sense express themselves 
with little art. And when you are seriously intent on 
saying something, is it necessary to hunt for words ? 
Your speeches, I say, which are so highly polished, in 
which ye crisp the shreds of humanity, 29 are unrefreshing 
as the mist-wind which whistles through the withered 
leaves in autumn. 

Wagner. 

Oh, God ! art is long, and our life is short. Often, 
indeed, during my critical studies, do I suffer both in 
head and heart. How hard it is to compass the means 
by which one mounts to the fountain-head ; and before 
he has got half way, a poor devil must probably die ! 

Faust. 

Is parchment the holy well, a drink from which allays 
the thirst forever ? Thou hast not gained the cordial, 
if it gushes not from thy own soul. 

Wagner. 

Excuse me ! it is a great pleasure to transport one's 
self into the spirit of the times ; to see how a wise man 
has thought before us, and to what a glorious height 
we have at last earned it. 

Faust. 

Oh, yes, far up to the very stars. My friend, the past 
ages are to us a book with seven seals. 30 What you term 
the spirit of the times, is at bottom only your own spirit, 
in which the times are reflected. A miserable exhibition, 
too, it frequently is ! One runs away from it at the first 
glance ! A dirt-tub and a lumber-room ! — and, at best, 



46 



FAUST. 



a puppet-show play, with fine pragmatical saws, such as 
may happen to sound well in the mouths of the puppets ! 

Wagner. 

But the world ! the heart and mind of man ! every one 
would like to know something about that. 

Faust. 

Ay, what is called knowing ! Who dares call the 
child by its true name? 31 The few who have ever 
known anything about it, who sillily enough did not keep 
a guard over their full hearts, who revealed what they 
had felt and seen to the multitude, — these, time imme- 
morial, have been crucified and burned. I beg, friend — 
the night is far advanced — for the present we must- 
break off. 

Wagner. 

I could fain have kept waking to converse with you 
so learnedly. To-morrow, however, the first day of 
Easter, permit me a question or two more. Zealously 
have I devoted myself to study. True, I know much ; 
but I would fain know all. (Exit.) 

Faust, alone. 

How all hope only quits not the brain, which clings 
perseveringly to trash, — gropes with greedy hand for 
treasures, and exults at finding earth-worms ! 

Dare such a human voice sound here, where all around 
me teemed with spirits ? Yet, ah ! this once I thank thee, 
thou poorest of all the sons of earth. Thou hast snatched 
me from despair, which had well-nigh got {he better of 
sense. Alas ! the vision was so giant-great, that I felt 
quite shrunk into a dwarf. ^ 

I, formed in God's own image, who already thought 



FAUST. 47 

myself near to the mirror of eternal truth ; who revelled, 
in heaven's lustre and clearness, with the earthly part 
of me stripped off; I, more than cherub, whose free 
spirit already, in its imaginative soarings, aspired to 
glide through nature's veins, and, in creating, enjoy the 
life of gods — how must I atone for it ! a thunder-word 
has swept rne wide away. 

I dare not presume to mate myself with thee. If I 
have possessed the power to draw thee to me, I had no 
power to hold thee. In that blest moment, I felt so 
little, so great; you fiercely thrust me back upon the 
uncertain lot of humanity. Who will teach me ? What 
am I to shun ? Must I obey that impulse ? Alas ! our 
actions, equally with our sufferings, clog the course of 
our lives. 

Something foreign, and more foreign, is ever clinging 
to the noblest conception the mind can form. 32 When 
we have attained to the good of this world, what is 
better is termed falsehood and vanity. The glorious 
feelings which gave us life 33 grow torpid in the worldly 
throng. 

If phantasy, at one time, on daring wing and full of 
hope, dilates to infinity, — a little space is now enough 
for her, when venture after venture has been wrecked in 
the whirlpool of time. Care straightway builds her 
nest in the depths of the heart, hatches vague tortures 
there, rocks herself restlessly, and frightens joy and 
peace away. She is ever putting on some new mask ; 
she may appear as house and land, as wife and child, as 
fire, water, dagger, poison. You tremble before all that 
does not* befall you, and must be always wailing what 
you never lose. 

I am not like the heavenly essences ; I feel it but too 



48 



FAUST. 



deeply. I am like the worm, which drags itself through 
the dust, — which, as it seeks its living in the dust, is 
crushed and buried by the step of the passer-by. 

Is it not dust ? all that in a hundred shelves contracts 
this lofty wall — the frippery, which, with its thousand 
forms of emptiness, cramps me up in this world of 
moths ? Is this the place for finding what I want ? 
Must I go on reading, m a thousand books, that men 
have everywhere been miserable, that now and then 
there has been a happy one ? 

Thou hollow skull, what mean'st thou by that grin ? 34 
but that thy brain, like mine, was once bewildered, — 
sought the bright day, and, with an ardent longing after 
truth, went miserably astray in the twilight ? 

Ye instruments, too, forsooth, are mocking me, with 
your wheels and cogs, cylinders and collars. I stood at 
the gate, ye were to be the key ; true, your wards are 
curiously twisted, but you raise not the bolt. Inscruta- 
ble at broad day, nature does not suffer herself to be 
robbed of her veil ; and what she does not choose to re- 
veal to thy mind, thou wilt not wrest from her by 
levers and screws. 

Thou, antiquated lumber, which I have never used, 
thou art here, only because my father had occasion for 
you. Thou, old roll, hast been growing smoke-be- 
smeared since the dim lamp first smouldered at this 
desk. Far better would it be for me to have squandered 
away the little I possess, than to be sweating here under 
the burden of that little. To possess what thou hast 
inherited from thy sires, enjoy it. 35 What one does not 
profit by, is an oppressive burden : what the 'moment 
brings forth, that only can it profit by. 

But why are my looks fastened on that spot ? is that 



FAUST. 



49 



phial there a magnet to my eyes ? Why, of a sudden, 
is all so exquisitely bright, as when the moonlight 
breathes round one benighted in the wood? 36 I hail 
thee, thou precious phial, which I now take down with 
reverence; in thee I honor the wit and art of man. 
Thou abstraction of kind soporific juices, thou concentra- 
tion of all refined deadly essences, vouchsafe thy master 
a token of thy grace ! I see thee, and the pang is miti- 
gated ; I grasp thee, and the struggle abates ; the spirit's 
flood-tide ebbs by degrees. I am beckoned out into the 
wide sea ; the glassy wave glitters at my feet ; another 
day invites to other shores. A chariot of fire waves, on 
light pinions, down to me. I feel prepared to permeate 
the realms of space on a new track, to new spheres of 
pure activity. This sublime existence, this godlike beati- 
tude ! And thou, worm as thou wert but now, dost thou 
merit it ? Ay, only resolutely turn thy back on the lovely 
sun of this earth ! Dare to tear up the gates which each 
willingly slinks by ! Now is the time to show by deeds 
that man's dignity yields not to God's sublimity, — to 
quail not in the presence of that dark abyss, in which 
phantasy damns itself to its own torments — to struggle 
onwards to that pass, round whose narrow mouth all 
Hell is flaming ; calmly to resolve upon the step, even 
at the risk of dropping into nothingness. 

Now come down, pure crystal goblet, on which I have 
not thought for many a year, — forth from your old 
receptacle ! You glittered at my father's festivities ; 
you gladdened the grave guests, as one pledged you to 
the other. The gorgeousness of the many artfully- 
wrought images, 37 — the drinker's duty to explain them 
in rhyme, and empty the contents at a draught, — 
remind me of many a night of my youth. I shall not 



50 



FAUST. 



now pass you to a neighbor ; I shall not now display my 
wit on your devices. Here is a juice which soon intox- 
icates. It fills your cavity with its brown flood. Be 
this last draught — which I have brewed, which I choose 
— quaffed, with my whole soul, as a solemn festal greet- 
ing to the morn. 

(He places the goblet to his mouth.) 
( The ringing of bells and singing of choruses?) 

Chorus of Angels. 

Christ has arisen ! 
Joy to the mortal, 
Whom the corrupting, 
Creeping, hereditary 
Imperfections enveloped. 

Faust. 

What deep humming, w T hat clear strain, draws irre- 
sistibly the goblet from my mouth? Are ye hollow- 
sounding bells already proclaiming the first festal hour 
of Easter ? Are ye choruses already singing the com- 
forting hymn, which once, round the night of the sepul- 
chre, pealed forth, from angel lips, the assurance of a 
new covenant ? 

Chorus of Women. 
With spices 

Had we embalmed him ; 
We, his faithful ones, 
Had laid him out. 
Clothes and bands 
Cleanlily swathed we round ; 
Ah ! and we find 
Christ no longer here ! 



FAUST. 



51 



Chorus of Angels. 
Christ is arisen ! 
Happy the loving one, 
Who the afflicting, 
• Wholesome and chastening 

Trial hath stood ! 

Faust. 

Why, ye heavenly tones, subduing and soft, do you 
seek me out in the dust? Peal out, where weak men 
are to be found ! I hear the message, but want faith. 
Miracle is the pet child of faith. I dare not aspire to 
those spheres from whence the glad tidings sound ; and 
yet, accustomed to this sound from infancy, it even 
now calls me back to life. In other days, the kiss of 
heavenly love descended upon me in the solemn stillness 
of the Sabbath; then the full-toned bell sounded so 
fraught with mystic meaning, 38 and a prayer was burning 
enjoyment. A longing, inconceivably sweet, 39 drove me 
forth to wander over wood and plain, and, amidst a thou- 
sand burning tears, I felt a world rise up to me. This 
anthem harbingered the gay sports of youth, the un- 
checked happiness of spring festivity. — Eecollection now 
holds me back, with child-like feeling, from the last de- 
cisive step. 40 Oh ! sound on, ye sweet heavenly strains ! 
The tear is flowing, earth has me again. 

Chorus of Disciples. 

The Buried One, 
Already on high, 
Living, sublime, 
Has gloriously raised himself ! 
He is, in reviving-bliss, 41 
4 



FATJST. 



Near to creating joy. 
Ah ! on earth's bosom 
Are we for suffering here . 
He left us, his own. 
Languishing here below ! 
Alas ! we weep over, 
Master, thy happy lot ! 

Chorus of Angels. 

Christ is arisen 

Out of corruption's lap. 

Joyfully tear yourselves 

Loose from your bonds ! 

Ye, in deeds giving praise to him 

Love manifesting, 

Living brethren-like, 

Travelling and preaching him, 

Bliss promising — 

You is the Master nigh, 

For you is he here ! 42 



BEFORE THE GATE. 



Promenaders of all kinds pass out. 
Some Mechanics. 

Why that way ? 

Others. 

We are going up to the Jagerhaus. 

The Former. 
But we are going to the mill. 

A Mechanic. 
I advise you to go to the Wasserhof. 

A Second. 
The road is not pleasant. 

The Others. 
What shall you do ? 

A Third. 
I am going with the others. 

A Fourth. 

Gome up to Burgdorf ; you are there sure of find- 
ing the prettiest girls and the best beer, and rows of the 
first order. 



54 



FAUST. 



A Fifth. 

You wild fellow, is your skin itching for the third 
time ? I don't like going there ; I have a horror of the 
place. 

Servant Girl. 
No, no, I shall return to the town. 

Another. 

We shall find him to a certainty by those poplars. 
The First. 

That is no great gain for rne. He will walk by your 
side. With you alone does he dance upon the green. 
What have I to do with your pleasures ? 

The Second. 

He is sure not to be alone to-day. The curly head, 
he said, would be with him. 

Student. 

The devil ! how the brave wenches step out ; come 
along, brother, we must go with them. Strong beer, 
stinging tobacco, and a girl in full trim, — that now 
is my taste. 

Citizens' Daughters. 

Now do you but look at those fine lads ! It is really 
a shame. They might have the best of company, and 
are running after these servant-girls. 

Second Student to the First. 

Not so fast ! there are two coming up behind ; they 
are trimly dressed out. One of them is my neighbor ; 1 
have a great liking for the girl. They are walking in 



FAUST. 



55 



their quiet way, and yet will suffer us to join them in 
the end. 

The First. 

No, brother. I do not like to be under restraint. 
Quick, lest we lose the game. The hand that twirls the 
mop on a Saturday, will fondle you best on Sundays. 

Townsman. 

No, the new Burgomaster is not to my taste; now 
that he has become so, he is daily getting bolder ; and 
what is he doing for the town ? Is it not growing worse 
every day ? One is obliged to submit to more restraints 
than ever, and pay more than in any time before. 

Beggar sings. 

Ye good gentlemen, ye lovely ladies, so trimly 
dressed and rosy cheeked, be pleased to look upon me, 
to regard and relieve my wants. Do not suffer me to 
sing here in vain. The free-handed only is light-hearted. 
Be the day, which is a holiday to all, a harvest-day to 
me. 

Another Townsman. 

I know nothing better on Sundays and holidays than a 
chat of war and war's alarms, when people are fighting, 
behind, far away in Turkey. 43 A man stands at the win- 
dow, takes off his glass, and sees the painted vessels 44 
glide down the river ; then returns home glad at heart 
at eve, and blesses peace and times of peace. 

Third Townsman. 

Ay, neighbor, I have no objection to that; they may 
break one another's heads, and turn everything topsy- 



56 



FAUST. 



tuny, for aught I care ; only let things at home remain 
as they are. 

An Old Woman to the Citizens' Daughters. 

Heydey : how smart ! the pretty young creatures. 
Who would not fall in love with you ? Only not so 
proud ! it is all very well ; and what you wish, I should 
know how to put you in the way of getting. 

Citizen's Daughter. 

Come along, Agatha. I take care not to be seen with 
such witches in public ; true, on St. Andrew's eve, 45 she 
showed me my future sweetheart in flesh and blood. 

The Other. 

She showed me mine in the glass, soldier-like, with 
other bold fellows ; I look around, I seek him every- 
where, but I can never meet with him. 



Soldier. 

Towns with lofty 
Walls and battlements 
Maidens with proud 
Scornful thoughts, 
I fain would win. 
Bold the adventure, 
Noble the reward. 

And the trumpets 
Are our summoners 
As to joy 
So to death. 
That is a storming, 
That is a life for you ! 



FAUST. 



57 



Maidens and towns 
Must surrender. 
Bold the adventure, 
Noble the reward — 
And the soldiers 
Are off. 

Faust and Wagner. 
Faust. 

River and rivulet are freed from ice by the gay, quick- 
ening glance of the spring. 45 The joys of hope are 
budding in the dale. Old winter, in his weakness, has 
retreated to the bleak mountains ; from thence he sends, 
in his flight, nothing but impotent showers of hail, in 
flakes, over the green-growing meadows. But the Sun 
endures no white. Production and growth are every- 
where stirring ; he is about to enliven everything vnth 
colors. The landscape wants flowers ; he takes gayly- 
dressed men and women instead. Turn and look back, 
from this rising ground, upon the town. Forth from the 
gloomy portal presses a motley crowd. Every one suns 
himself so willingly to-day. They celebrate the rising 
of the Lord, for they themselves have arisen; — from 
the damp rooms of mean houses, from the bondage of 
mechanical drudgery, from the confinement of gables 
and roofs, from the stifling narrowness of streets, from 
the venerable gloom of churches, are they raised up to 
the open light of day. But look, look ! how quickly the 
mass scatters itself through the gardens and fields ; how 
the river, broad and long, tosses many a merry bark 
upon its surface, and how this last wherry, overladen 
almost to sinking, moves off! Even from the farthest 
paths of the mountain, gay-colored dresses glance upon 



5S 



FAUST. 



us. I hear already the bustle of the village ; this is the 
true heaven of the multitude ; big and little are huzzaing 
joyously. Here, I am a man — here, I may be one. 

Wagner. 

To walk with you, Sir Doctor, is honor and profit. 
But I would not lose myself alone, because I am an 
enemy to coarseness of every sort. Fiddling, shouting, 
skittle-playing, are sounds thoroughly detestable to 
me. People run riot as if the devil was driving them, 
and call it merriment, call it singing. 

Rustics under the Lime Tree. 

Dance and Song. 

The swain dressed himself out for the dance. 
With parti-colored jacket, ribbon and garland, 
Smartly was he dressed ! 
The ring round the lime-tree was already full, 
And all were dancing like mad. 

Huzza ! Huzza ! 

Tira-lira-hara-la ! 
Merrily went the fiddle-stick. 

He pressed eagerly in, 
Gave a maiden a push 
With his elbow : 
The buxom girl turned round 
And said — "Now that I call stupid." 

Huzza ! Huzza ! 

Tira-lira-hara-la ! 
" Don't be so rude." 

Yet nimbly sped it in the ring ; 
They turned right, they turned left, 



FAUST. 



59 



And all the petticoats were flying. 
They grew red, they grew warm, 
And rested panting arm-in-arm, 

Huzza ! Huzza ! 

Tira-lira-hara-la ! 
And elbow on the hip. 

" Have done now ! don't be so fond ! 
How many a man has cajoled and 
Deceived his betrothed ! " 
But he coaxed her aside, 
And far and wide echoed from the lime-tree 

Huzza ! Huzza ! 

Tira-lira-hara-la ! 
Shouts and fiddle-sticks. 

Old Peasant. 

Doctor, this is really good of you, not to scorn us 
to-day, and, great scholar as you are, to mingle in this 
crowd. Take then the fairest jug, which we have filled 
with fresh liquor : I pledge you in it, and pray aloud 
that it may do more than quench your thirst — may the 
number of drops which it holds be added to your days ! 

Faust. 

I accept the refreshing draught, and wish you all 
health and happiness in return. [The people collect 
round him.) 

Old Peasant. 
Of a surety it is well done of you, to appear on this 
glad day. You have been our friend in evil days, too, 
before no\r. Many a one stands here alive whom your 
father tore from the hot fever's rage, when he stayed the 



60 



FAUST. 



pestilence. You, too, at that time a young man, went 
into every sick house : many a dead body was borne 
forth, but you came out safe. You endured many a 
sore trial. The Helper above helped the helper. 

All. 

Health to the tried friend — may he long have the 
power to help ! 

Faust. 

Bend before Him on high, who teaches how to help, 
and sends help. 

(He proceeds with Wagner,) 
Wagner. 

"What a feeling, great man, must you experience at 
the honors paid you by this multitude ! Oh, happy he 
who can turn his gifts to so good an account ! The 
father points you out to his boy ; all ask, and press, and 
hurry round. The fiddle stops, the dancer pauses. As 
you go by, they range themselves in rows, caps fly into 
the air, and they all but bend the knee as if the Host 
were passing. 

Faust. 

Only a few steps further, up to that stone yonder ! 
Here we will rest from our walk. Here many a time 
have I sat, thoughtful and solitary, and mortified myself 
with prayer and fasting. Rich in hope, firm in faith, I 
thought to extort the stoppage of that pestilence from the 
Lord of heaven, with tears, and sighs, and wringing of 
hands. The applause of the multitude now sounds like 
derision in my ears. Oh ! couldst thou read in my 
soul how little father and son merited such an honor ! 
My father was a worthy, sombre man, who, honestly, 



FAUST. 



61 



but in his own way, meditated, with whimsical applica- 
tion, on nature and her hallowed circles ; who, in the 
company of adepts, shut himself up in the dark labora- 
tory, and fused contraries together after numberless 
recipes. There was a red lion, 47 a bold lover, married 
to the lily in the tepid bath, and then both, with open 
flame, tortured from one bridal chamber to another. If 
the young queen, with varied hues, then appeared in 
the glass — this was the medicine ; the patients died, 
and no one inquired who recovered. Thus did we, with 
our hellish electuaries, rage in these vales and mountains 
far worse than the pestilence. I myself have given the 
poison to thousands ; they pined away, and I must sur- 
vive to hear the reckless murderers praised ! 

Wagner. 

How can you make yourself uneasy on that account ? 
Is it not enough for a good man to practise conscien- 
tiously and scrupulously the art that has been intrusted 
to him ? If, in youth, you honor your father, you will 
willingly learn from him : if, in manhood, you extend 
the bounds of knowledge, your son may mount still 
higher than you. 

Faust. 

Oh, happy he, who can still hope to emerge from this 
sea of error ! We would use the very thing we know 
not, and cannot use what we know. But let us not 
imbitter the blessing of this hour by such melancholy re- 
flections. See, how the green-girt cottages shimmer in 
the setting Sun ! He bends and sinks — the day is over- 
lived. Yonder he hurries off, and quickens other life. 
Oh ! that I have no wing to lift me from the ground, to 
struggle after, forever after, him ! I should see, in ever- 



62 



FAUST. 



lasting evening beams, the stilly world at my feet, — 
every height on fire, 48 — every vale in repose, — the 
silver brook flowing into golden streams. 49 The rugged 
mountain, with all its dark defiles, would not then break 
my god-like course. Already the sea, with its heated 
bays, opens on my enraptured sight. Yet the god 
seems at last to sink away. But the new impulse wakes. 
I hurry on to drink his everlasting light, — the day be- 
fore me and the night behind 50 — the heavens above, and 
under me the waves. A glorious dream ! as it is pass- 
ing, he is gone. Alas ! no bodily wing will so easily 
keep pace with the wings of the mind. 51 Yet it is the 
inborn tendency of our being for feeling to strive up- 
wards and onwards ; when, over us, lost in the blue ex- 
panse, the lark sings its trilling lay : when, over rugged, 
pine-covered heights, the out-spread eagle soars ; and, 
over marsh and sea, the crane struggles onward to her 
home. 

Wagner. 

I myself have often had my capricious moments, but 
I never yet experienced an impulse of the kind. One 
soon looks one's fill of woods and fields. I shall never 
envy the wings of the bird. How differently the pleas- 
ures of the mind bear us, from book to book, from page 
to page ! With them, winter nights become cheerful 
and bright, a happy life warms every limb, and, ah ! 
when you actually unroll a precious manuscript, all 
heaven comes down to you. 

Faust. 

Thou art conscious only of one impulse. Oh, never 
become acquainted with the other ! Two souls, alas, 
dwell in my breast ; the one struggles to separate itself 



FAUST. 



63 



from the other. The one clings with persevering fond- 
ness to the world, with organs like cramps of steel ; the 
other lifts itself energetically from the mist to the realms 
of an exalted ancestry. 52 Oh ! if there be spirits hover- 
ing in the air, ruling 'twixt earth and heaven, descend 
ye, from your golden atmosphere, and lead me off to a 
new, variegated life ! Ay, were but a magic mantle mine, 
and could it bear me into foreign lands, I would not part 
with it for the costliest garments — not for a king's 
mantle. 

Wagner. 

Invoke not the well-known troop, which diffuses itself, 
streaming, through the atmosphere, and prepares danger 
in a thousand forms, from every quarter, to man. 53 The 
sharp-fanged spirits, with arrowy tongues, press upon 
you from the north ; from the east, they come parching, 
and feed upon your lungs. If the south sends from the 
desert those which heap fire after fire upon thy brain, 
the west brings the swarm which only refreshes to drown 
fields, meadows, and yourself. They are fond of lis- 
tening, ever keenly alive for mischief : they obey with 
pleasure, because they take pleasure to delude : they 
feign to be sent from heaven, and lisp like angels when 
they lie. But let us be going; the earth is already 
grown gray, the air is chill, the mist is falling; it is 
only in the evening that we set a proper value on our 
homes. Why do you stand still and gaze with aston- 
ishment thus ? What can thus attract your attention 
in the gloaming ? 

Faust. 

Seest thou the black dog ranging through the corn 
and stubble ? 



64 



FAUST. 



Wagner. 

I saw him long ago ; he did not strike me as any- 
thing particular. 

Faust. 

Mark him well ! for what do you take the brute ? 
Wagner. 

For a poodle, who, poodle-fashion, is puzzling out the 
track of his master. 

Faust. 

Dost thou mark how, in wide spiral curves, he quests 
round and ever nearer us ? and, if I err not, a line of fire 
follows upon his track. 54 

Wagner. 

I see nothing but a black poodle ; you may be deceived 
by some optical illusion. 

Faust. 

It appears to me, that he is drawing light magical 
nooses, to form a toil around our feet. 

Wagner. 

I see him bounding hesitatingly and shyly around us, 
because, instead of his master, he sees two strangers. 

Faust. 

The circle grows narrow ; he is already close. 
Wagner. 

You see it is a dog, and no spirit. He growls and 
hesitates, crouches on his belly and wags with his tail 
— all as dogs are wont to do. 



FATJST. 



65 



Faust. 
Come to us ! — Hither ! 

Wagner. 

It's a droll creature. Stand still, and he will sit on 
his hind legs ; speak to him, and he will jump up on 
you ; lose aught, and he will fetch it to you, and jump 
into the water for your stick. 

Faust. 

I believe you are right ; I find no trace of a spirit, and 
all is the result of training. 

Wagner. 

Even a wise man may become attached to a dog when 
he is well brought up. 55 And he richly deserves all 
your favor, — he, the accomplished pupil of your stu- 
dents, as he is. 

{They enter the gate of the town.) 



I 



STUDY. 

Faust, entering icith the poodle. 

I have left plain and meadow veiled in deep night, 
which wakes the better soul within us with a holy feel- 
ing of foreboding awe. Wild desires are now sunk in 
sleep, with every deed of violence : the love of man is 
stirring — the love of God is stirrinq- now. 

Be quiet, poodle, run not hither and thither. What 
are you snuffling at on the threshold ? Lie down behind 
the stove ; there is my best cushion for you. As with- 
out, upon the mountain-path, you amused us by running 
and gambolling, so now receive my kindness as a wel- 
come quiet guest. 

Ah ! when the lamp is burning again friendlily in our 
narrow cell, then all becomes clear in our bosom, — in 
the heart that knows itself. Eeason begins to speak, 
and hope to bloom, again ; we yearn for the streams — 
oh, yes ! for the fountain, of life. 

Growl not, poodle ; the brutish sound ill harmonizes 
with the hallowed tones which now possess my whole 
soul. We are accustomed to see men deride what they 
do not understand 56 — to see them snarl at the good and 
beautiful, which is often troublesome to them. Is the 
dog disposed to snarl at it like them ? But, ah ! I feel 
already that, much as I may wish for it, contentment 
wells no longer from my breast. Yet why must the 
stream be so soon dried up, and we again lie thirsting ? 
I have had so much experience of that! This want, 



FAUST. 



67 



however, admits of being compensated. We learn to 
prize that which is not of this earth ; we long for reve- 
lation, which nowhere burns more majestically or more 
beautifully than in the New Testament. 57 I feel im- 
pelled to open the original text — to translate for once, 
with upright feeling, the sacred original into my darling 
German. 

(He opens a volume, and disposes himself for the task.) 

It is written : "In the beginning was the Word." 
Here I am already at a stand — who will help me on ? 
I cannot possibly value the Word so highly ; I must 
translate it differently, if I am truly inspired by the 
spirit. It is written : "In the beginning was the 
Sense." Consider well the first line, that your pen be 
not over hasty. Is it the sense that influences and pro- 
duces everything? It should stand thus: "In the 
beginning was the Power." Yet, e\ 7 en as I am writing 
down this, something warns me not to keep to it. The 
spirit comes to my aid ! At once I see my way, and 
write confidently : "In the beginning was the Deed." 

If I am to share the chamber with you, poodle, cease 
your howling — cease your barking. I cannot endure 
so troublesome a companion near to me. One of us two 
must quit the cell. It is with reluctance that I with- 
draw the rites of hospitality ; the door is open — the 
way is clear for you. But what do I see ? Can that 
come to pass by natural means ? Is it shadow — is it 
reality ? How long and broad my poodle grows ! He 
raises himself powerfully ; that is not the form of a dog ! 
What a phantom I have brought into the house ! — he 
looks already like a hippopotamus, with fiery eyes, ter- 
rific teeth. Ah ! I am sure of thee ! Solomon's key is 
good for such a half-hellish brood. 
5 



FAUST. 



Spirits in the Passage. 
One is caught within ! 
Stay without, follow none ! 
As in the gin the fox, 
Quakes an old lynx of hell. 

But take heed ! 
Hover thither, hover back, 

Up and down, 
And he is loose ! 
If ye can aid him, 
Leave him not in the lurch ! 
For he has already done 
Much to serve us. 

Faust. 
First to confront the beast, 
Use I the spell of the four : 

Salamander 53 shall glow, 

Undine twine, 

Sylph vanish, 

Kobold stir himself. 
Who did not know 

The elements. 
Their power and properties, 

Were no master 

Over the spirits. 
Vanish in flame, 

Salamander ! 
Rushingly flow together, 

Undine ! 
Shine in meteor beauty, 

Sylph! 
Bring homely help, 



FAUST. 



69 



Incubus ! Incubus ! 

Step forth and make an end of it. 

No -one of the four sticks in the beast. He lies undis- 
turbed and grins at me. I have not yet made him feel. 
Thou shalt hear me conjure stronger. 

Art thou, fellow, 

A scapeling from hell ? 

Then see this sign ! 

To which bend the dark troop. 

He is already swelling, and bristling his hair. 

Reprobate ! 

Canst thou read him? — 
The unoriginated, 
Unpronounceable , 
Through all heaven diffused, 
Vilely transpierced ? 

Driven behind the stove, it is swelling like an ele- 
phant ; it fills the whole space ; it is about to vanish in 
the mist. Rise not to the ceiling ! Down at thy mas- 
ter's feet! Thou seest I do not threaten in vain. I 
will scorch thee with holy fire. Wait not for the thrice- 
glowing light. Wait not for the strongest of my spells. 

Mephistopheles. 

(Comes forward as the mist sinks, hi the dress of a 

travelling scholar?* from behind the stove.) 
Wherefore such a fuss ? What may be your pleas- 
ure ? 



70 



FAUST. 



Faust. 

This, then, was the kernel of the poodle. A travelling 
scholar ? The casus makes me laugh. 

Mephistopheles. 

I salute your learned worship. You have made me 

sweat with a vengeance. 

Faust. 

What is thy name ? 

Mephistopheles. 
The question strikes me as trifling for one who rates 
the "Word so low; who, far estranged from all mere 
outward seeming, looks only to the essence of things. 

Faust. 

With such gentlemen as you, one may generally learn 
the essence from the name, since it appears but too 
plainly if your name be fly-god, 60 destroyer, liar. Now, 
in a word, who art thou, then ? 

Me phistophe le s. 
A part of that power, which is ever willing evil and 
ever producing good. 

FausL 

What is meant by this riddle ? 

Mephistopheles. 
I am the spirit which constantly denies, and that 
rightly; for everything that has originated, deserves to 
be annihilated. Therefore better were it that nothing 
should originate. Thus, all that you call sin, destruc- 
tion, in a word, Evil, is my proper element. 



FAUST. 



71 



Faust. 

You call yourself a part, and yet stand whole before 
me. 

Mephistopheles. 
I tell thee the modest truth. Although man, that 
microcosm of folly, commonly esteems himself a whole, 
I am a part of the part, which in the beginning was 
all ; 61 a part of the darkness which brought forth light, 
— the proud light, which now contests her ancient rank 
and space with mother night. But he succeeds not; 
w since, strive as he will, he cleaves, as if bound, to bodies, 
he streams from bodies, he gives beauty to bodies, a 
body stops him in his course, and so, I hope, he will 
perish with bodies before long. 

Faust. 

Now I know thy dignified calling. Thou art not able 
to destroy on a great scale, and so art just beginning on 
a small one. 

Mephistopheles. 
And, to say truth, I have made little progress in it. 
That which is opposed to nothing 62 — the something, 
this clumsy world, much as I have tried already, I have 
not yet learnt how to come at it, — with waves, storms, 
earthquakes, fire. Sea and land remain undisturbed, 
after all ! And the damned set, the brood of brutes and 
men, there is no such thing as getting the better of 
them, neither. How many I have already buried ! And 
new, fresh blood is constantly circulating ! Things go 
on so — it is enough to make one mad ! From air, 
water, earth, 63 in wet, dry, hot, cold — germs by thou- 
sands evolve themselves. Had I not reserved fire, I 
should have nothing apart for myself. 



72 



FAUST. 



Faust. - 

So thou opposest thy cold devil's fist, clenched in im- 
potent malice, to the ever-stirring, the beneficent cre- 
ating power. Try thy hand at something else, won- 
drous son of Chaos. 

Mephistopheles. 
We will think about it in good earnest — more of that 
anon ! Might I be permitted this time to depart ? 

Faust. 

I see not why you ask. I have now made acquaint- 
ance with you ; call on me in future as you feel in- 
clined. Here is the window, here the door ; there is 
also a chimney for you. 

Mephistopheles. 
To confess the truth, a small obstacle prevents me 
from walking out — the wizard-foot upon your threshold. 

Faust. 

The Pentagram embarrasses you? 64 Tell me then, 
thou child of hell, if that repels thee, how cam'st thou 
in ? How was such a spirit entrapped ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Mark it well ; it is not well drawn ; one angle, the 
outward one, is, as thou seest, a little open. 

Faust. 

It is a lucky accident. Thou shouldst be my pris- 
oner then ? This is a chance hit. 

Mephistopheles. 
The poodle observed nothing when he jumped in. 



FAUST. 



73 



The thing looks differently now ; the devil cannot get 
out. 

Faust. 

But why do you not go through the window ? 
Mephistopheles. 

It is a law, binding on devils and phantoms, that they 
must go out the same way they stole in. The first is 
free to us ; we are slaves as regards the second. 

Faust. 

Hell itself has its laws ? I am glad of it ; in that case 
a compact, a binding one, may be made with you gentle- 
men? 65 

Mephistopheles. 
What is promised, that shalt thou enjoy to the letter ; 
not the smallest deduction shall be made from it. But 
this is not to be discussed so summarily, and we will 
speak of it the next time. But I must earnestly beg of 
you to let me go this once. 

Faust. 

Wait yet another moment, and tell me something 
worth telling. 66 

Mephistopheles. 
Let me go now ! I will soon come back ; you may 
then question me as you like. 

Faust. 

I have laid no snare for thee ; thou hast run into the 
net of thy own free will. Let whoever has got hold of 
the devil, keep hold of him ; he will not catch him a 
second time in a hurry. 



74 



FAUST. 



Mephistopheles. 
If you like, I am ready to stay and keep you company 
here, but upon condition that I may beguile the time 
properly for you by my arts. 

Faust. 

I shall attend with pleasure ; you may do so, provided 
only that the art be an agreeable one. 

Mephistopheles. 

My friend, you will gain more for your senses in this 
one hour, than in the whole year's monotony. What 
the delicate spirits sing to you, the lovely images which 
they call up, are not an unsubstantial play of enchant- 
ment. Your smell will be charmed, you will then 
delight your palate, and then your feelings will be 
entranced. No preparation is necessary; we are all 
assembled — strike up ! 

Spirits. 
Vanish ye dark 
Arched ceilings above, 
More charmingly look in 
The friendly blue sky ! 
Were the dark clouds 
Melted away ! 
Little stars sparkle, 
Softer suns shine in. 
Ethereal beauty 
Of the children of heaven, 
Tremulous bending* 

Hovers across ; 
Longing desire 

Follows after. 



FAUST. 



And the flattering 

Ribbons of drapery 

Cover the plains, 

Cover the bower, 

Where lovers, 

Deep in thought, 

Give themselves for life. 

Bower on bower ! 

Sprouting tendrils ! - 

Down-weighing grapes 

Gush into the vat 

Of the hard-squeezing press. 

The foaming wines 

Gush in brooks, 

Rustle through 

Pure, precious stones, 

Leave the heights 

Behind them lying, 

Broaden to seas 

Around the charm of 

Green-growing hills. 

And the winged throng 

Sips happiness, 

Flies to meet the sun, 

Flies to meet the bright 

Isles, which dancingly 

Float on the waves ; 

Where we hear 

Shouting in choruses, 

Where we see 

Dancers on meads ; 

In th' open air 

All disporting alike. 



76 



FAUST. 



Some are clambering 
Over the heights, 
Others are swimming 
Over the seas, 
Others are hovering — 
All towards the life, 
All towards the far away- 
Loving stars of 
Bliss-giving grace. 

Mephistopheles. 
He slumbers ! Well done, my airy, delicate young- 
sters ! Ye have fairly sung him to sleep. I am your 
debtor for this concert. Thou art not yet the man to 
hold fast the devil ! Play round him with sweet dreamy 
visions ; plunge him in a sea of illusion. But to break 
the spell of this threshold I need a rat's tooth. I have 
not to conjure long ; one is already rustling hither, and 
will hear me in a moment. The lord of rats and mice, 
of flies, frogs, bugs, and lice, commands thee to venture 
forth and gnaw this threshold, so soon as he has smeared 
it with oil. Thou com'st hopping forth already! In- 
stantly to the work ! The point which repelled me is 
towards the front on the ledge ; one bite more, and it is 
done. — Now, Faust, dream on, till we meet again. 

Faust, leaking. 
Am I then once again deceived ? Does the throng of 
spirits vanish thus ? Was it in a lying dream that the 
devil appeared to me, and was it a poodle that escaped ? 



STUDY. 



Faust ; Mephistopheles. 
Faust. 

Does any one knock? Come in! Who wants to 
disturb me again ? 

Mephistopheles. 

It is I. 

Faust. 

Come in. 

Mephistopheles. 
You must say so three times. 

Faust. 

' Come in, then ! 

Mephistopheles. 
So far, so good. We shall go on very well together, 
I hope ; for, to chase away your fancies, I am here, like 
a youth of condition, in a coat of scarlet laced with 
gold, a mantle of stiff silk, a cock's feather in my hat, 
and a long pointed sword at my side. And, to make no 
more words about it, my advice to you is to array your- 
self in the same manner immediately, that unrestrained, 
emancipated, you may try what life is. 

Faust. 

In every dress, I dare say, I shall feel the torture of 
the contracted life of this earth. I am too old for mere 



78 



FAUST. 



play, too young to be without a wish. 67 What can the 
world afford me ? 63 — " Thou shalt renounce ! " " Thou 
shalt renounce ! " — That is the eternal song which is 
rung in every one's ears ; which, our whole life long, 
every hour is hoarsely singing to us. In the morning I 
wake only to horror. I would fain weep bitter tears to 
see the day, which, in its course, will not accomplish a 
wish for me ; no, not one ; which, with wayward cap- 
tiousness, weakens even the presentiment of every joy, 
and disturbs the creation of my busy breast by a thousand 
ugly realities. Then again, at the approach of night, I 
must stretch myself in anguish on my couch ; here, too, 
no rest is vouchsafed to me ; wild dreams are sure to 
harrow me up. The God that dwells in my bosom, that 
can stir my inmost soul, that sways all my energies — 
he is powerless as regards things without ; and thus 
existence is a load to me, death an object of earnest 
prayer, and life detestable. 

Me phistophe le s . 
And yet death is never an entirely welcome guest. 
Faust. 

Oh ! happy the man around whose brows he wreathes 
the bloody laurel in the glitter of victory — whom, after 
the maddening dance, he finds in a maiden's arms. Oh, 
that I had sunk away, enrapt, exanimate, before the 
great spirit's power ! 

Mephistopheles. 

And yet a certain person did not drink a certain 
brown juice on a certain night. 

Faust. 

Playing the spy, it seems, is thy amusement, 



FAUST. 



79 



Mefhistopheles. 
I am not omniscient ; but I know much. 

Faust. 

Since a sweet familiar tone drew me from those 
thronging horrors, 69 and played on what of child-like 
feeling remained in me with the concording note of 
happier times, — my curse on everything that entwines 
the soul with its jugglery, and chains it to this den of 
wretchedness with blinding and flattering influences. 
Accursed, first, be the lofty opinion in which the mind 
wraps itself! Accursed, the blinding of appearances, 
by which our senses are oppressed ! Accursed, what 
plays the pretender to us in dreams, — the cheat of 
glory, of the lasting of a name ! Accursed, what flatters 
us as property, as wife and child, as slave and plough ! 
Accursed be Mammon when he stirs us to bold deeds 
with treasures, when he smooths our couch for indolent 
delight ! Accursed, the balsam-juice of the grape ! 
Accursed, that highest grace of love ! 70 Accursed be 
Hope, accursed be Faith, and accursed, above all, be 
Patience ! 

Chorus of Spirits [invisible.) 
Woe, woe, 

Thou hast destroyed it, 

The beautiful world, 

With violent hands ; 

It tumbles, it falls abroad. 

A demi-god has shattered it to pieces ! 

We bear away 

The wrecks into nothingness, 

And wail over 

The beauty that is lost. 



80 



FAUST. 



Mighty 

Among the sons of earth, 

Proudlier 

Build it again, 

Build it up in thy bosom ! 

A new career of life, 

With unstained sense 

Begin, 

And new lays 

Shall peal out thereupon. 

Mephistopheles. 

These are the little ones of my train. Listen, how, 
with wisdom beyond their years, they counsel you to 
pleasure and action. Out into the world, away from 
solitariness, where the senses and the juices of life stag- 
nate — would they fain lure you. 

Cease to trifle with your grief — which, like a vulture, 
feeds upon your vitals. The worst company will make 
you feel that you are a man amongst men. Yet I do 
not mean to thrust you amongst the pack. I am none 
of your great men ; but if, united with me, you will 
wend your way through life, I will readily accommodate 
myself to be yours upon the spot. I am your com- 
panion ; and, if it suits you, your servant, your slave ! 

Faust. 

And what am I to do for you in return ? 71 

Mephistopheles. 
For that you have still a long day of grace. 

Faust. 

No, no ; the devil is an egotist, and is not likely to do, 



FAUST. 



81 



for God's sake, what may advantage another. Speak 
the condition plainly out ; such a servant is a dangerous 
inmate. 

Mephistopheles. 
I will bind myself to your service here, and never 
sleep nor slumber at your call. When we meet on the 
other side, you shall do as much for me. 

Faust. 

I care little about the other side : if you first knock 
this world to pieces, the other may arise afterwards if it 
will. My joys flow from this earth, and this sun shines 
upon my sufferings : if I can only separate myself from 
them, what will and can, may come to pass. I will 
hear no more about it — whether there be. hating and 
loving in the world to come, and whether there be an 
Above or Below in those spheres like our own. 

Mephistopheles. 
In this sense, you may venture. Bind yourself ; and 
during these days, you shall be delighted by my arts ; 
I will give thee what no human being ever saw yet. 

Faust. 

What, poor devil, wilt thou give ? Was the mind of 
a man, in its high aspiring, ever comprehended by the 
like of thee ? But if thou hast food which never satis- 
fies ; 72 ruddy gold which, volatile, like quicksilver, melts 
away in the hand ; a game, at which one never wins ; a 
maiden, who, on my breast, is already ogling my neigh- 
bor; the bright godlike joy of honor, which- vanishes 
like a meteor ! — Show me the fruit which rots before it 
is plucked, and trees which every day grow green anew. 



82 



FAUST. 



Mephistopheles. 
Such a task affrights me not. I have such treasures 
at my disposal. But, my good friend, the time will 
come round when we may feast on what is really good 
in peace. 

Faust. 

If ever I stretch myself, calm and composed, upon a 
couch, be there at once an end of me. If thou canst 
ever flatteringly delude me into being pleased with 
myself — if thou canst cheat me with enjoyment, be 
that day my last. I offer the wager. 

Mephistopheles. 

Done ! 

Faust. 

And my hand upon it ! If I ever say to the passing 
moment — " Stay, thou art so fair!" then mayst thou 
cast me into chains ; then will I readily perish ; then 
may the death-bell toll ; then art thou free from thy 
service. The clock may stand, the index hand may 
fall : be time a thing no more for me ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Think well of it ; we shall bear it in mind. 

Faust. 

You have a perfect right so to do. I have formed no 
rash estimate of myself. As I remain, I am a slave ; 
what care I, whether thine or another's ? 

Mephistopheles. 

This very day, at the doctor's feast, 73 I shall enter 
upon my duty as servant. Only one thing — to guard 
against accidents, I must trouble you for a line or two. 



FAUST. 



83 



Faust. 

Pedant, dost thou, too, require writing ? Hast thou 
never known man nor man's word ? Is it not enough 
that my word of mouth disposes of my days for all 
eternity ? Does not the world rave on in all its currents, 
and am I to be bound by a promise ? Yet this prejudice 
is implanted in our hearts : who would willingly free 
himself from it ? Happy the man who bears truth pure 
in his breast ; he will never have cause to repent any 
sacrifice ! But a parchment, written and stamped, is a 
spectre which all shrink from. The word dies away 
in the very pen ; in wax and leather is the mastery. 
What, evil spirit, wouldst thou of me ? Brass, marble, 
parchment, paper ? Shall I write with style, graver, 
pen ? I leave the choice to thee. 

Mephistopheles. 

How can you put yourself in a passion and overwork 
your oratory in this manner ? Any scrap will do : you 
will subscribe your name with a drop of blood. 

Faust. 

If this will fully satisfy you, the whim shall be 
complied with. 

Mephistopheles. 
Blood is quite a peculiar sort of juice. 

Faust. 

But fear not that I shall break this compact. What 
I promise, is precisely what all my energies are striving 
for. I have aspired too high : I belong only to thy 
class. The Great Spirit has spurned me ; Nature shuts 
herself against me. The thread of thought is snapped ; 
6 



84 



FAUST. 



I have long loathed every sort of knowledge. Let us 
quench our glowing passions in the depths of sensual- 
ity ; let every wonder be forthwith prepared beneath the 
hitherto impervious veil of sorcery. Let us cast our- 
selves into the rushing of time, into the rolling of 
accident. There pain and pleasure, success and disap- 
pointment, may succeed each other as they will — man's 
proper element is restless activity. 

Mephistopheles. 

Nor end nor limit is prescribed to you. If it is your 
pleasure to sip the sweets of everything, to snatch at 
all as you fly by, much good may it do you — only fall 
to, and don't be coy. 

Faust. 

I tell thee again, pleasure is not the question : I 
devote myself to the intoxicating whirl ; — to the most 
agonizing enjoyment — to enamored hate — to animat- 
ing vexation. My breast, cured of the thirst of knowl- 
edge, shall henceforth bare itself to every pang. I will 
enjoy in my own heart's core all that is parcelled out 
amongst mankind; grapple in spirit with the highest 
and deepest ; heap the Aveal and woe of the whole race 
upon my breast, and thus dilate my own individuality 
to theirs, and perish also, in the end, like them. 

Mephistopheles. 

Oh, believe me, who many thousand years have 
chewed the cud on this hard food, that from the cradle 
to the bier, no human being digests the old leaven. 
Believe a being like me, this Whole is only made for a 
god. He exists in an eternal halo ; us he has brought 



FAUST. 85 

i 

forth in darkness ; and only day and night are proper 
for you. 

Faust. 

But 1 will. 

Mephistopheles. 

That is well enough to say ! But I am only troubled 
about one thing ; time is short, art is long. I should 
suppose you would suffer yourself to be instructed. 
Take a poet to counsel ; make the gentleman set his 
imagination at work, and heap all noble qualities on 
your honored head, — the lion's courage, the stag's 
swiftness, the fiery blood of the Italian, the enduring 
firmness of the North. Make him find out the secret of 
combining magnanimity with cunning, and of being in 
love, after a set plan, with the burning desires of youth. 
I myself should like to know such a gentleman — I 
would call him Mr. Microcosm. 

Faust. 

What, then, am I, if it be not possible to attain the 
crown of humanity, which every sense is striving for ? 

Mephistopheles. 

Thou art in the end — what thou art. Put on wigs 
with millions of curls — set thy foot upon ell-high socks, 
— thou abidest ever what thou art. 

Faust. 

I feel it ; in vain have I scraped together and accu- 
mulated all the treasures of the human mind upon 
myself ; and when I sit down at the end, still no new 
power wells up within : I am not a hair's breadth 
higher, 74 nor a whit nearer the Infinite. 



86 



FAUST. 



Mephistopheles. 

My good Sir, you see things precisely as they are or- 
dinarily seen ; we must manage matters better, before 
the joys of life pass away from us. What the deuce ! 

you have surely hands and feet and head and , 75 

And what I enjoy with spirit, is that then the less my 
own ? If I can pay for six horses, are not their powers 
mine ? I dash along and am a proper man, as if I had 
four-and-twenty legs. 76 Quick, then, have done with 
poring, and straight away into the world with me. I tell 
you, a fellow that speculates is like a brute driven in a 
circle on a barren heath by an evil spirit, whilst fair 
green meadow lies everywhere around. 

Faust. 

How shall we set about it ? 

Mephistopheles. 

We will just start and take our chance. What a 
place of martyrdom ! what a precious life to lead ! — 
wearying one's self and a set of youngsters to death. 
Leave that to your neighbor, Mr. Paunch! Why will 
you plague yourself to thrash straw ? The best that 
you can know, you dare not tell the lads. Even now I 
hear one in the passage. 

Faust. 
I cannot possibly see him. 

Mephistopheles. 
The poor boy has waited long ; he must not be sent 
away disconsolate. Come, give me your cap and gown: 
the mask will become me to admiration. 

(He changes his dress.) 



FAUST. 



87 



Now trust to my wit. I require but a quarter of an 
hour. In the mean time prepare for our pleasant trip. 

(Exit Faust.) 

Mephistopheles in Faust's gown. 

Only despise reason and knowledge, the highest 
strength of humanity ; only permit thyself to be con- 
firmed in delusion and sorcery-work by the spirit of lies, 

— and I have thee unconditionally. Fate has given 
him a spirit which is ever pressing onwards uncurbed, 

— whose overstrained striving o'erleaps the joys of 
earth. 77 Him will I drag through the wild passages of 
life, through vapid unmeaningness. He shall sprawl, 
stand amazed, stick fast, — and meat and drink shall 
hang, for his insatiableness, before his craving lips : he 
shall pray for refreshment in vain ; and had he not 
already given himself up to the devil, he would, not- 
withstanding, inevitably be lost. 

(A Student enters.™ ) 

Student. 

I am but just arrived, and come, full of devotion, to 
address and know a man whom all name to me with 
reverence. 

Mephistopheles. 

1 am nattered by your politeness. You see a man 
like many others. Have you yet made any inquiry 
elsewhere ? 

Student. 

Interest yourself for me, I pray you. I come with 
every good disposition, a little money, and youthful 
spirits ; my mother could hardly be brought to part with 



88 



FAUST. 



me, but I would fain learn something worth learning in 
the world. 

Mephistopheles. 
You are here at the very place for it. 

Student. 

Honestly speaking, I already wish myself away. 
These walls, these halls, are by no means to my taste. 
The space is exceedingly confined ; there is not a tree, 
nothing green, to be seen ; and in the lecture-rooms, on 
the benches, — hearing, sight, and thinking fail me. 

Mephistopheles. 

It all depends on habit. Thus, at first, the child 
does not take kindly to the mother's breast, but soon 
finds a pleasure in nourishing itself. Just so will you 
daily experience a greater pleasure at the breasts of 
wisdom. 

Student. 

I shall hang delightedly upon her neck ; do but tell 
me how I am to attain it. 

Mephistopheles. 

Tell me, before you go further, what faculty you fix 

upon ? 

Student. 

I should wish to be profoundly learned, and should 
like to comprehend what is upon earth or in heaven, 
science and nature. 

Mephistopheles. 

You are here upon the right scent ; but you must not 
suffer your attention to be distracted. 



FAUST. 



89 



Student. 

I am heart and soul in the cause. A little relaxation 
and pastime, to be sure, would not come amiss on bright 
summer holy days. 

Mephistopheles. 
Make the most of time, it glides away so fast. But 
method teaches you to gain time. For this reason, my 
good friend, I advise you to begin with a course of logic. 
In this study, the mind is well broken in, — laced up in 
Spanish boots, 73 so that it creeps circumspectly along 
the path of thought, and runs no risk of flickering, ignis 
fatuus-like, in all directions. Then many a day will be 
spent in teaching you 80 that one, two, three — is neces- 
sary for that which formerly you hit 01T at a blow, as 
easily as eating and drinking. It is with the fabric of 
thought as with a weaver's master-piece ; where one 
treadle moves a thousand threads : the shuttles shoot 
backwards and forwards ; the threads flow unseen : ties, 
by thousands, are struck off at a blow. Your philoso- 
pher, — he steps in and proves to you, it must have 
been so : the first would be so, the second so, and there- 
fore the third and fourth so : and if the first and second 
were not, the third and fourth would never be. The 
students of all countries put a high value on this, but 
none have become weavers. He who wishes to know 
and describe anything living, 81 seeks first to drive the 
spirit out of it ; he has then the parts in his hand ; only, 
unluckily, the spiritual bond is wanting. Chemistry 
terms it encheiresis natures, and mocks herself without 
knowing it. 

Student. 
I cannot quite comprehend you. 



90 



FAUST. 



Mephistopheles. 
You will soon improve in that respect, if you learn to 
reduce and classify all things properly. 

Student. 

I am so confounded by all this ; I feel as if a mill- 
wheel was turning round in my head. 

Mephistopheles. 
In the next place, before everything else, you must set 
to at metaphysics. There see that you conceive pro- 
foundly what is not made for human brains. A fine 
word will stand you in stead for what enters and what 
does not enter there. And be sure, for this half-year, to 
adopt the strictest regularity. You will have five 
lectures every day. 82 Be in as the clock strikes. Be 
well prepared beforehand with the paragraphs carefully 
conned, that you may see the better that he says nothing 
but what is in the book ; yet write away as zealously as 
if the Holy Ghost were dictating to you. 83 

Student. 

You need not tell me that a second time. 1 can 
imagine how useful it is. For what one has in black 
and white, one can carry home in comfort. 

Mephistopheles. 
But choose a faculty. 

Student. 

I cannot reconcile myself to jurisprudence. 84 

Mephistopheles. 
I cannot much blame you. I know the nature of this 



FAUST. 



91 



science. Laws descend, like an inveterate hereditary 
disease ; they trail from generation to generation, and 
glide imperceptibly from place to place. Reason be- 
comes nonsense ; beneficence a plague. Woe to thee 
that thou art a grandson ! Of the law that is born 
with us — of that, unfortunately, there is never a ques- 
tion. 

Student. 

You increase my repugnance. Oh, happy he whom 
you instruct ! I should almost like to study theology. 

Mephistopheles. 

I do not wish to mislead you. As for this science, it 
is so difficult to avoid the wrong way ; there is so much 
hidden poison in it, which is hardly to be distinguished 
from the medicine. Here, again, it is best to attend but 
one master, and swear by his words. Generally speak- 
ing, stick to words ; you will then pass through the safe 
gate into the temple of certainty. 

Student. 

But there must be some meaning connected with the 
word. 

Mephistopheles. 

Eight ! only we must not be too anxious about that ; 
for it is precisely where meaning fails that a word 
comes in most opportunely. Disputes may be admirably 
carried on with words ; a system may be built with 
words ; words form a capital subject for belief; a word 
admits not of an iota being taken from it. 

Student. 

Your pardon, I detain you by my many questions, 



92 



FAUST. 



but I must still trouble you. Would you be so kind as 
to add a pregnant word or two on medicine? Three 
years is a short time, and the field, God knows, is far 
too wide. If one has but a hint, one can feel one's -way 
along further. 

Mephistopheles {aside.) 

I begin to be tired of the prosing style. I must play 
the devil properly again. {aloud.) 

The spirit of medicine is easy to be caught f 5 you 
study through the great and little world, and let things 
go on in the end — as it pleases God. It is vain that 
you wander scientifically about ; no man will learn more 
than he can ; he who avails himself of the passing 
moment — that is the proper man. You are tolerably 
well built, nor will you be wanting in boldness, and if 
you do but confide in yourself, other souls will confide 
in you. In particular, learn how to treat the women : 
their eternal ohs ! and ahs ! so thousandfold, are to be 
cured from a single point, and if you only assume a 
moderately demure air, you will have them all under 
your thumb. You must have a title, to convince them 
that your art is superior to most others, and then you 
are admitted from the first to all those little privileges 
which another spends years in coaxing for. — Learn how 
to feel the pulse adroitly, and boldly clasp them, with 
hot wanton looks, around the tapering hip, to see how 
tightly it is laced. 

Student. 

There is some sense in that ; one sees, at any rate, 
the where and the how. 



FAUST. 



93 



Mephistopheles. 

Gray, my dear friend, is all theory, and green the 
golden tree of life. 

Student. 

I vow to you, all is as a dream to me. Might I 
trouble you another time to hear your wisdom speak 
upon the grounds? 

Mephistopheles. 
I am at your service, to the extent of my poor abilities. 
Student. 

I cannot possibly go away without placing my album 
in your hands. Do not grudge me this token of your 
favor. 

Mephistopheles. 
With all my heart. 

(He writes and gives it back.) 
Student reads.- 
Eritis sicut Deus, scientes bonum et malum. 
(He closes the book reverentially, and takes his leave.) 

Mephistopheles. 
Only follow the old saying and my cousin the snake, 
and some time or other you, with your likeness to God, 
will be sorry enough. 

Faust enters. 

Whither now? 

Mephistopheles. 
Where you please ; to see the little, then the great 



94 



FAUST. 



world. With what joy, what profit, will you revel 
through the course. 

Faust. 

But with my long beard, I want the easy manners of 
society. I shall fail in the attempt. I never knew how 
to present myself in the world ; I feel so little in the 
presence of others. I shall be in a constant state of 
embarrassment. 

Mephistopheles. 

My dear friend, all that will come of its own accord : 
so soon as you feel confidence in yourself, you know the 
art of life. 

Faust. 

How, then, are we to start ? Where are your car- 
riages, horses, and servants ? 

Mephistopheles. 

We have but to spread out this mantle ; 86 that shall 
bear us through the air. Only you will take no heavy 
baggage on this bold trip. A little inflammable air, 
which I will get ready, will lift us quickly from this 
earth ; and, if we are light, we shall mount rapidly. I 
wish you joy of your new course of life. 



AUERBACH'S CELLAR IN LEIPSIC. 87 
(Drinking bout of merry fellows.) 
Frosch. 

Will no one drink ? no one laugh ? I will teach you 
to grin. Why, you are like wet straw to-day, yet at 
other times you blaze brightly enough. 

Brander. 

That is your fault ; you contribute nothing towards 
it : no nonsense, no beastliness — 

Frosch. 

f {Throws a glass of ivine over Brander's head.) 

There are both for you ! 

Brander. 

You double hog ! 

Frosch. 

Why, you wanted me to be so. 

SlEEEL. 

Out with him who quarrels ! With open heart strike 
up the song ! swill and shout ! holla, holla, ho I 

Altmayer. 

"Woe is me! I am a lost man. Cotton, here! the 
knave splits my ears. 



96 



FAUST. 



S IE BEL. 

It is only when the vault echoes again, that one feels 
the true power of the bass. 

Frosch. 

Right : out with him who takes anything amiss. 
A ! taralara, da ! 

Altmayer. 

A ! taralara ! 

Frosch. 
Our throats are tuned. 

(He sings.) 

The dear, holy Romish empire, how holds it still 
together ? 

Brander. 

A nasty song ! psha, a political song ! an offensive 
song ! Thank God every morning of your life, that you 
have not the Roman empire to care far. I, at least, 
esteem it no slight gain that I am not emperor nor 
chancellor. But we cannot do without a head. We 
will choose a pope. You know what sort of qualifi- 
cation turns the scale, and elevates the man. 

Frosch sings. 
Soar up, Madam Nightingale, give my sweetheart 
ten thousand greetings for me. 88 

Siebel. 

No greeting to the sweetheart ; I will not hear of it. 
Frosch. 

Greeting to the sweetheart, and a kiss too ! Thou 
shalt not hinder me. 



FAUST. 



97 



(He sings.) 
Open bolts ! in stilly night. 
Open bolts ! the lover wakes. 
Shut bolts ! at morning's dawn. 

SlEBEL. 

Ay, sing, sing on, and praise and celebrate her ; my 
tarn for laughing will come. She has taken me in ; she 
will do the same for you. May she have a hobgoblin 
for a lover ! He may toy with her on a cross way. 
An old he-goat, on his return from the Blocksberg, may 
wicker good night to her on the gallop. A hearty fel- 
low of genuine flesh and blood is far too good for the 
wench. I will hear of no greeting, unless it be to 
smash her windows. 

Brander (striking on the table.) 

Attend, attend ; listen to me ! You gentlemen must 
allow me to know something of life. Lovesick folks sit 
here, and I must give them something suitable to their 
condition by way of good night. Attend ! a song of the 
newest cut ! and strike boldly in with the chorus. 

(He sings.) 

There was a rat in the cellar, who lived on nothing 
but fat and butter, and had raised himself up a paunch 
fit for Doctor Luther himself. The cook had laid 
poison for him, then the world became too hot for him, 
as if he had love in his body. 

Chorus. — As if he had love in his body. 

He ran round, he ran out, he drank of every puddle 
he gnawed and scratched the whole house, but his fury 
availed nothing ; he gave many a bound of agony ; the 



98 



FAUST. 



poor beast was soon done for, as if he had love in his 
body. 

Chorus. — As if, &c. 

He came running into the kitchen, for sheer pain, in 
open daylight, fell on the earth, and lay convulsed, and 
panted pitiably. Then the poisoner exclaimed, with a 
laugh — Ha ! he is at his last gasp, as if he had love in 
his body. 

Chorus. — As if, &c. 

SlEBEL. 

How the flats chuckle ! It is a fine thing, to be sure, 
to lay poison for the poor rats. 

Brander. 

They stand high in your favor, I dare say. 
Altmayer. 

The bald-pated paunch ! The misadventure makes 
him humble and mild. He sees in the swollen rat his 
own image drawn to the life. 

Faust and Mephistopheles. 
Mephistopheles. 
Before all things else, I must bring you into merry 
company, that you may see how lightly life may be 
passed. These people make every day a feast. With 
little wit and much self-complacency, each turns round 
in the narrow circle-dance, like kittens playing with 
their tails. So long as they have no headache to com- 
plain of, and so long as they can get credit from their 
hostj they are merry and free from care. 



FAUST. 



99 



Brander. 

They are just off their journey ; one may see as much 
from their strange manner. They have not been here 
an hour. 

Frosch. 

Thou art right ; Leipsic is the place for me; 89 it is a 
little Paris, and gives its folks a finish. 

SlEBEL. 

What do you take the strangers to be ? 

Frosch. 

Let me alone ; in the drinking of a bumper I will 
worm it out of them as easily as draw a child's tooth. 
They appear to me to be noble ; they have a proud and 
discontented look. 

Brander. 
Mountebanks to a certainty, I wager. 

Altmayer. 

Likely enough. 

Frosch. 

Now mark ; I will smoke them. 

Mephistopheles to Faust. 

These people would never scent the devil, if he had 
them by the throat. 

Faust. 
Good morrow, gentlemen. 

Siebel. 

Thanks, and good morrow to you. 
7 



100 



FAUST. 



(Aside, looking at Mephistopheles askance.) 
Why does the fellow halt on one foot ? 

Mephistopheles. 

Will you permit us to sit down with you? We shall 
have company to cheer us, instead of good liquor, which 
is not to be had. 

Altmayer. 
You seem a very dainty gentleman. 

Frosch. 

I dare say you are lately from Eippach. Did you sup 
with Mr. Hans before you left ? 90 

Mephistopheles. 

We passed him without stopping to-day. The last 
time we spoke to him, he had much to say of his cous- 
ins ; he charged us with compliments to each. 

(With an inclination towards Frosch.) 

Altmayer [aside.) 
Thou hast it there ! he knows a thing or two. 

Siebel. 

A knowing fellow. 

Frosch. 

Only wait, I shall have him presently. 

Me phistophe le s . 

If I am not mistaken, we heard some practised voices 
singing in chorus ? No doubt singing must echo admira- 
bly from this vaulted roof. 




FAUST. 



101 



Frosch. 
I dare say you are a dilettante. 

Mephistopheles. 
Oh, no ! The power is weak, but the desire is strong. 
Altmayer. 

Give us a song. 

Mephistopheles. 
As many as you like. 

Siebel. 
Only let it be bran new. 

Mephistopheles. 
We are just returned from Spain, the fair land of 
wine and song. 

(He sings.) 

There was once upon a time a king who had a great 
flea — 

Frosch. 

Hark ! A flea ! Did you catch that ? A flea is a fine 
sort of chap. 

Mephistopheles sings. 91 

There was once upon a time a king ; he had a great 
flea, and was as fond of it as if it had been his own son. 
Then he called his tailor ; the tailor came. " There, 
measure the youngster for clothes, and measure him for 
breeches." 

Brander. 

Only don't forget to impress it on the tailor to meas- 
ure with the greatest nicety, and, as he loves his head, 
to make the breeches sit smoothly. 



102 



FAUST. 



Mephistopheles sings. 

He was now attired in velvet and silk, had ribbons on 
his coat, had a cross besides, and was forthwith made 
minister, and had a great star. Then his brothers and 
sisters also became great folks. And the ladies and 
gentlemen at court were dreadfully tormented ; from the 
queen to the waiting- woman they were pricked and 
bitten, yet dared not crack nor scratch them away. But 
we crack and stifle fast enough when one pricks. 

Chorus. — But we crack, &c. 

Frosch. 

Bravo ! bravo ! That was capital. 

Siebel. 

So perish every flea. 

Brander. 

Point your fingers, and nick them cleverly. 

Altmayer. 
Liberty forever ! Wine forever ! 

Mephistopheles. 
I would willingly drink a glass in honor of liberty, 
were your wine a thought better. 

Siebel. 

You had better not let us hear that again ! 

Mephistopheles. 
I am afraid of giving offence to the landlord, or I 
would treat these worthy gentlemen out of our own 
stock. 



FAUST. 



103 



SlEBEL. 

O, bring it in ; I take the blame upon myself. 
Frosch. 

Give us a good glass, and we shall not be sparing of 
our praise ; only don't let your samples be too small ; 
for, if I am to give an opinion, I require a regular 
mouthful. 

Altmayer (aside.) 
They are from the Ehine, I guess. 

Mephistopheles. 

Bring a gimlet. 

Brander. 

What for? You surely have not the casks at the 
door? 

Altmayer. 

Behind there, is a tool-chest of the landlord's. 

Mephistopheles (taking the gimlet) to Frosch. 
Now say, what wine would you wish to taste ? 
Frosch. 

What do you mean ? Have you so many sorts ? 

Mephistopheles. 
I give every man his choice. 

Altmayer to Frosch. 
Ah ! you begin to lick your lips already. 

Frosch. 

Well ! if I am to choose, I will take Ehine wine, 
Our father-land affords the best of gifts. 



104 



FAUST. 



Mephistopheles (boring a hole in the edge of the table 
where Frosch is sitting.) 
Get a little wax to make stoppers, immediately. 

Altmayer. 
Ah ! these are juggler's tricks. 

Mephistopheles to Brander. 

And you ? 

Brander. 

I choose champagne, and right sparkling it must be. 

(Mephistopheles bores again ; one of the others has in 
the mean time prepared the wax-stoppers and stopped 
the holes.) 

One cannot always avoid what is foreign ; what is 
good often lies so far off. A true German cannot abide 
Frenchmen, but has no objection to their wine. 

Siebel (as Mephistopheles approaches him.) 
I must own I do not like acid wine ; give me a glass 
of genuine sweet. 

Mephistopheles (bores.) 
You shall have Tokay in a twinkling. 

Altmayer. 

No, gentlemen, look me in the face. I see plainly 
you are only making fun of us. 

Mephistopheles. 

Ha ! ha ! that would be taking too great a liberty with 
such distinguished guests. Quick ! only speak out at 
once. What wine can I have the pleasure of serving 
you with ? 



FAUST. 



105 



Altmayer. 

With any ; there is no need of much questioning. 
[After all the holes are bored and stopped.) 
Mephistopheles [with strange gestures.) 
The vine bears grapes. 
The he-goat bears horns. 
Wine is juic}r, 
Vines are wood ; 

The wooden table can also give wine. 
A deep insight into nature : 
Behold a miracle, only have faith ; 
Now draw the stoppers, and drink. 

All. 

(As they draw the stoppers, and the wine he chose runs 
into each man's glass.) 
Oh ! beautiful spring that flows for us i 

Mephistopheles. 
Only take care not to spill any of it. 

(They drink repeatedly.) 

All sing. 

We are as happy as cannibals — as five hundred 
swine. 

Mephistopheles. 

These people are now in their glory ; mark, how 
merry they are. 

Faust. 

1 should like to be off now. 

Mephistopheles. 
But first attend ; their brutishness will display itself 
right gloriously. 



106 FAUST. 

SlEEEL. 

(Drinks carelessly ; the wine is spilt upon the ground, 
and turns to Jlame.) 
Help ! fire, help ! Hell is burning-. 

Mephistopheles (conjuring the Jlame.) 
Be quiet, friendly element ! 

(To Siebel.) 

This time it was only a drop of the fire of purgatory. 
Siebel. 

What may that be ? Hold ! you shall pay dearly for 
it. It seems that you do not know us. 

Frosch. 

He had better not try that a second time. 

Altmayee. 

I think we had better send him packing quietly. 
Siebel. 

What, sir, dare you play off your hocus pocus here ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Silence, old wine-butt ! 

Siebel. 

Broomstick ! will you be rude to us too ? 

Brander. 

But hold ! or blows shall rain. 

Altmayer. 

(Draws a stopper from the table ; fire flies out against 
him.) 

I burn ! I burn ! 



FAUST. 



107 



SlEBEL. 

Sorcery ! thrust home ! the knave is fair game. 
{They draw their knives and attack Mephistopheles.) 
Mephistopheles {with solemn gestures.) 

False form and word, 
Change sense and place, 
Be here, be there ! 

{They stand amazed and gaze on each other.) 

Altmayer. 
Where am I ? What a beautiful country ! 

Frosch. 

Vineyards ! Can I believe my eyes ? 

Siebel. 
And grapes close at hand ! 

Brander. 

Here, under these green leaves, see, what a stem ! see, 
what a bunch ! 

{He seizes Siebel by the nose. The others do the same 
one with the other y and brandish their knives.) 

Mephistopheles {as before.) 
Error, loose the bandage from their eyes ! And do ye 
remember the devil's mode of jesting. 

(He disappears with Faust. The fellows start back 
from one another.) 

Siebel. 

What 's the matter ? 



108 FAUST. 

Altmayer. 

How? 

Frosch. 

Was that your nose ? 

BrANDER to SlEBEL. 

And I have yours in my hand ! 

Altmayer. 

It was a shock which thrilled through every limb! 
N Give me a chair ; I am sinking. 

Frosch. 

No, do but tell me : what has happened ? 

SlEBEL. 

Where is the fellow ? If I meet with him, it shall be 
as much as his life is worth. 

Altmayer. 

I saw him with my own eyes riding out of the cellar 
door upon a cask. My feet feel as heavy as lead. 

(Turning towards the table,) 
My ! I wonder whether the wine is flowing still ? 

SlEBEL. 

It was all a cheat, a lie, and a make-believe. 
Frosch. 

Yet it seemed to me as if I was drinking wine. 

Brander. 
But how was it with the grapes ? 

Altmayer. 

Let any one tell me, after that, that one is not to 
believe in wonders ! 



WITCHES' KITCHEN. 92 

A large caldron is hanging over the fire on a low hearth. 
Different figures are seen in the fumes which rise from 
it. A Female Monkey is sitting by the caldron and 
skimming it, and taking care that it does not run over. 
The Male Monkey is seated near with the young ones, 
and warming himself. The walls and ceiling are hung 
with the strangest articles of Witch furniture. 

Faust. 

I loath this mad concern of witchcraft. Do you prom- 
ise me that I shall recover in this chaos of insanity ? Do 
I need an old hag's advice ? And will this mess of 
cookery really take thirty years from my body ? Woe 
is me, if you know of nothing better ! Hope is already 
gone. Has nature and has a noble spirit discovered no 
sort of balsam ? 

Mephistopheles. 
My friend, now again you speak wisely ! There is 
also a natural mode of renewing youth. But it is in 
another book, and is a strange chapter. 

Faust. 

Let me know it. 

Mephistopheles. 
Well, to have a mean without money, physician, or 
sorcery : betake thyself straightway to the field, begin to 
hack and dig, confine thyself and thy sense within a 



110 



FAUST. 



narrow circle ; support thyself on simple food ; live with 
beasts as a beast, and think it no robbery to manure the 
land you crop. That is the best way, believe me, to 
keep a man young to eighty. 

Faust. 

I am not used to it. I cannot bring myself to take 
the spade in hand. The confined life does not suit me 
at all. 

Mephistopheles. 
Then you must have recourse to the witch, after all. 

Faust. 

But why the old woman in particular ? Cannot you 
brew the drink yourself ? 

Mephistopheles. 
That were a pretty pastime ! I could build a thousand 
bridges in the time. Not art and science only, but 
patience is required for the job. A quiet spirit is busy 
at it for years ; time only makes this fine liquor strong. 
And the ingredients are exceedingly curious. The 
devil, it is true, has taught it her, but the devil cannot 
make it. (Perceiving the Monkeys.) See what a pretty 
breed! That is the lass — that the lad. (To the Mon- 
keys.) — It seems your mistress is not at home ? 

The Monkeys. 
At the feast, 93 
Out of the house, 

Out and away by the chimney-stone ! 

Mephistopheles. 
How long does she usually rake? 



FAUST. 



Ill 



The Monkeys. 
Whilst we are warming our paws. 

Mephistopheles (to Faust.) 
What think you of the pretty creatures ? 

Faust. 

The most disgusting I ever saw. 

Mephistopheles. 

Nay, a discourse like the present is precisely what I 
am fondest of engaging in. 

(To the Monkeys.) 

Tell me, accursed whelps, what are ye stirring up with 
the porridge ? 

Monkeys. 

We are cooking coarse beggars' broth. 94 

Mephistopheles. 
You will have plenty of customers. 

The He Monkey. 
(Approaches and fawns on Mephistopheles.) 
Oh, quick throw the dice, 
And make me rich — 
And let me win ! 
My fate is a sorry one. 
And had I money 
I should not want for consideration. 

Mephistopheles. 
How happy the monkey would think himself, if he 
could only put into the lottery. 



112 



FAUST. 



(The Young Monkeys have, in the mean time, been 
playing with a large globe, and roll it forwards.) 

The He Monkey. 
That is the world ; 
It rises and falls, 
And rolls nriceasingly. 
It rings like glass : 
How soon breaks that ? 
It is hollow within ; 
It glitters much here, 
And still more here — 
I am alive ! 
My dear son, 
Keep thee aloof; 
Thou must die ! 
It is of clay, 
This makes potsherds. 

Mephistopheles. 
What is the sieve for ? 

The He Monkey (takes it down.) 
Wert thou a thief, I should know thee at once. 

(He rims to the female and makes her look through.) 
Look through the sieve ! 
Dost thou recognize the thief? 
And darest not name him ? 

Mephistopheles (approaching the fire.) 
And this pot ? 

The Monkeys. 
The half-witted sot ! 
He knows not the pot ! 
He knows not the kettle ! 



FAUST. 



113 



Mephistopheles. 

Uncivil brute ! 

The He Monkey. 
Take the brush here, and sit down on the settle. 95 

(He makes Mephistopheles sit down,) 

Faust, 

( Who all this time has been standing before a looking- 
glass, now approaching and now standing off from 
it.) 

What do I see ? What a heavenly image shows itself 
in this magic mirror ! O Love ! lend me the swiftest 
of thy wings, and bear me to her region ! Ah ! when I 
stir from this spot, when I venture to go near, I can only 
see her as in a mist. The loveliest image of a woman ! 
Is it possible — is woman so lovely ? Must I see in 
these recumbent limbs the innermost essence of all 
Heavens ? Is there anything like it upon earth ? 

Mephistopheles. 
When a God first works hard for six days, and him- 
self says bravo at the end, it is but natural that some- 
thing clever should come of it. For this time look your 
fill. I know where to find out such a love for you, and 
happy he whose fortune it is to bear her home as a 
bridegroom. 

(Faust continues looking into the mirror. Mephis- 
topheles, stretching himself on the settle, and play- 
ing with the brush, continues speaking.) 

Here I sit, like the king upon his throne ; here is my 
sceptre — I only want the crown. 



114 



FAUST. 



The Monkeys, 
{Who have hitherto been playing all sorts of strange 
antics, bring Mephistopheles a crown with loud 
acclamations.) 

Oh, be so good as to glue the crown with sweat and 
blood. 93 

{They handle the crown awkwardly, and break it into 
two pieces, with which they jump about.) 

Now it is done. 
We speak and see ; 
We hear and rhyme — 

Faust {before the mirror.) 

Woe is me ! I am becoming almost mad ! 

Mephistopheles {pointing to the Monkeys,) 

My own head begins to totter now. 

The Monkeys. 

— And if we are lucky — 

And if things fit, 

Then there are thoughts. 

Faust {as before.) 

My heart is beginning to burn. Do but let us begone 
immediately. 

Mephistopheles {in the same position.) 
Well, no one can deny, at any rate, that they are sin- 
cere poets. 

{The caldron, which the She Monkey has neglected, 
begins to boil over ; a great flame arises, and streams 
up the chimney. The Witch comes shooting down 
through the flame with horrible cries,) 



FAUST. 



115 



The Witch. 
Ough, ough, ough, ough ! 
Damned beast ! Accursed sow ! 
Neglecting the caldron, scorching your dame — 
Cursed beast ! 

[Espying Faust and Mephistopheles.) 
What now ? 
Who are ye ? 
What would ye here ? 
Who hath come slinking in ? 
The red plague of fire 
Into your bones ! 

(She dips the skimming ladle into the caldron, and 
sprinkles flames at Faust, Mephistopheles, and the 
Monkeys. The Monkeys whimper. 

Mephistopheles, 

( Who inverts the brush which he holds in his hands, and 
strikes amongst the glasses and pots.) 

To pieces ! 
To pieces ! 

There lies the porridge ! 
There lies the glass ! 

It is only carrying on the jest — beating time, thou 
carrion, to thy melody. 

(As the Witch steps back in rage and amazement.) 
Dost thou recognize me, thou atomy, 97 thou scare-crow ? 
Dost thou recognize thy lord and master? What is 
there to hinder me from striking in good earnest, from 
dashing thee and thy monkey-spirits to pieces ? Hast 
thou no more any respect for the red doublet ? Canst 
8 



116 



FAUST. 



thou not distinguish the cock's feather? Have I con- 
cealed this face ? Must I then name myself ? 

The Witch. 

master, pardon this rough reception. But 1 see no 
cloven foot. Where then are your two ravens ? 

Mephistopheles. 
This once the apology may serve. For, to be sure, 
it is long since last we met. The march of intellect too, 
which licks all the world into shape, has even reached 
the devil. The northern phantom is no more to be seen. 
Where do you now see horns, tail, and claws? 98 And 
as for the foot, which I cannot do without, it would 
prejudice me in society ; therefore, like many a gallant, 
I have worn false calves these many years. 

The Witch, (dancing.) 

1 am almost beside myself to see the gallant Satan 
here again. 

Mephistopheles. 
The name, woman, I beg to be spared. 

The Witch. 
Wherefore ? What has it done to you ? 

Mephistopheles. 
It has been long written in story-books ; but men are 
not the better for that; they are rid of the wicked one, the 
wicked have remained. You may call me Baron, that 
will do very well. I am a cavalier, like other cavaliers. 
You doubt not of my gentle blood ; see here, these are 
the arms I bear! 

(He makes an unseemly gesture.) 



FAUST. 



117 



The Witch laughs immoderately. 
Ha, ha ! That is in your way. You are the same 
mad wag as ever. 

Mephistopheles (to Faust.) 
My friend, attend to this. This is the way to deal 
with witches. 

The Witch. 
Now, sirs, say what you are for. 

Mephistopheles. 

A good glass of the juice you wot of. 1 must beg you 
to let it be of the oldest. Years double its power* 

The Witch. 

Most willingly. Here is a bottle out of which I some- 
times sip a little myself; which, besides, no longer stinks 
in the least. I will give you a glass with pleasure. 
(Aside.) But if this man drinks it unprepared, you well 
know he cannot live an hour. 

Mephistopheles. 

He is a worthy friend of mine, on whom it will have 
a good effect. I grudge him not the best of thy kitchen. 
Draw thy circle, spell thy spells, and give him a cup full. 

(The Witch, with strange gestures, draws a circle and 
places rare things in it ; in the mean time, the 
glasses begin to ring, and the caldron to sound and 
make music. Lastly, she brings a great book, and 
places the Monkeys in the circle, who are made to 
serve her for a reading desk and hold the torches. 
She signs to Faust to approach.) 



118 



FAUST. 



Faust (to Mephistopheles.) 

But tell me, what is to come of all this ? This absurd 
apparatus, these frantic gestures, this most disgusting 
jugglery — I know them of old, and thoroughly abom- 
inate them. 

Mephistopheles. 
Pooh ! that is only fit to laugh at. Don't be so 
fastidious. As mediciner, she is obliged to play off some 
hocus-pocus, that the dose may operate well on you. 

(He makes Faust enter the circle.) 

The Witch, with a strong emphasis, begins to declaim 
from the book. 
You must understand, 
Of one make ten, 
And let two go, 
And three make even ; 
Then art thou rich. 
Lose the four ! 
Out of five and six, 
So says the Witch, 
Make seven and eight, 
Then it is done, 
And nine is one, 
And ten is none. 

That is the witches one-times-one. 99 
Faust. 

It seems to me that the hag is raving. 

Mephistopheles. 
There is a good deal more of it yet — 1 know it well ; 
the whole book is to the same tune. I have wasted 



FAUST. 



119 



many an hour upon it, for a downright contradiction 
remains equally mysterious to wise folks and fools. 100 
My friend, the art is old and new. It has ever been the 
fashion to spread error instead of truth by three and one, 
and one and three. It is taught and prattled uninterrupt- 
edly. Who will concern themselves about dolts ? Men 
are wont to believe, when they hear only words, that 
there must be something in it. 

The Witch continues. 

The high power 
Of knowledge, 

Hidden from the whole world ! 
And he who thinks not, 
On him is it bestowed ; 
He has it without trouble. 

Faust. 

What sort of nonsense is she reciting to us? My 
head is splitting! I seem to hear a hundred idiots 
declaiming in full chorus. 

Mephistopheles. 

Enough, enough, incomparable Sybil ! Hand us thy 
drink, and fill the cup to the brim without more ado ; 
for this draught will do my friend no harm. He is a 
man of many grades, who has taken many a good gulp 
already. 

(The Witch with many ceremonies pours the liquor 
into a cup; as Faust lifts it to his mouth, a light 
flame arises.) 

Mephistopheles. 
Down with it at once. Do not stand hesitating. It 



120 



FAUST. 



will soon warm your heart. Are you hail-fellow well- 
met with the devil, and afraid of fire ? 

(The Witch dissolves the circle — Faust steps out.) 

Mephistopheles. 
Now forth at once ! You must not rest. 

The Witch. 
Much good may the draught do you. 

Mephistopheles (to the Witch,) 
And if I can do anything to pleasure you, you need 
only mention it to me on Walpurgis' night. 

The Witch. 

Here is a song ! if you sing it occasionally, it will 
have a particular effect on you. 

Mephistopheles (to Faust.) 
Come quick, and be guided by me ; you must neces- 
sarily perspire, to make the spirit work through blood 
and bone. I will afterwards teach you to value the 
nobility of idleness, and you will feel ere long, with 
heartfelt delight, how Cupid bestirs himself and bounds 
hither and thither. 

Faust. 

Let me only look another moment in the glass. That 
female form was too, too lovely. 

Mephistopheles. 

Nay, nay ; you shall soon see the model of all woman- 
kind in flesh and blood. 

(Aside.) 

With this draught in your body, you will soon see a 
Helen in every woman you meet. 



THE STREET. 



Faust. (Margaret 101 passing by.) 
My pretty lady, may I take the liberty of offering you 
my arm and escort ? 

Margaret. 

I am neither lady, nor pretty, and can go home with- 
out an escort. 

(She disengages herself and exit.) 
Faust. 

By heaven, this girl is lovely ! I have never seen the 
like of her. She is so well-behaved and virtuous, and 
something snappish, withal. The redness of her lip, the 
light of her cheek — I shall never forget them all the 
days of my life. The manner in which she cast down 
her eyes is deeply stamped upon my heart : and how 
. tart she was — it was absolutely ravishing ! 

Mephistopheles enters. 
Faust. 

Hark, you must get me the girl. 

Mephistopheles. 

Which? 

Faust. 

She passed but now. 

Me phistophe le s . 
What, she ? She came from her confessor, who ab- 
solved her from all her sins. I stole up close to the 



122 



FAUST. 



chair. It is an innocent little thing, that went for next 
to nothing to the confessional. Over her I have no 
power. 

Faust. 

Yet she is past fourteen ! 

Mephistopheles. 
You positively speak like Jack Rake, who covets 
every sweet flower for himself, and fancies that there is 
neither honor nor favor which is not to be had for the 
plucking. But this will not always do. 

Faust. 

My good Mr. Sermonizer, don't plague me with your 
morality. And, in a word, I tell you this : if the sweet 
young creature does not lie this very night in my arms, 
at midnight our compact is at an end. 

Mephistopheles. 
Consider what is possible. I need a fortnight, at 
least, to find an opportunity. 

Faust. 

Had I but seven hours clear, I should not want the 
devil's assistance to seduce such a child. 

Mephistopheles. 
You talk now almost like a Frenchman: but don't 
fret about it, I beg. What boots it to go straight to 
enjoyment ? The delight is not so great by far, as when 
you have kneaded and moulded the doll on all sides 
with all sorts of nonsense, 102 as many a French story 
teaches. 



FAUST. 



123 



Faust. 

But I have appetite without all that. 

Mephistopheles. 
Now seriously, and without offence, I tell you once 
for all, that the lovely girl is not to be had in such a 
hurry ; nothing here is to be taken by storm ; we must 
have recourse to stratagem. 

Faust. 

Get me something belonging to the angel. Carry me 
to her place of repose; get me a kerchief from her 
bosom, a garter of my love. 

Mephistopheles. 
That you may see my anxiety to minister to your 
passion, — we will not lose a moment ; this very day T 
will conduct you to her chamber. 

Faust. 

And shall I see her ? have her ? — 

Mephistopheles. 
No. She will be at a neighbor's. In the mean time, 
you, all alone, and in her atmosphere, may feast to 
satiety on anticipated joy. 

Faust. 

Can we go now ? 

Mephistopheles. 

It is too early. 



124 



FAUST. 



Faust, 

Get me a present for her. [Exit. 

Mephistopheles. 
Presents directly ! Now that 's capital ! That 's the 
way to succeed ! I know many a fine place, and many 
a long-buried treasure. I must look them over a bit. 



EVENING. 



A neat little Room. 

Margaret (braiding and binding up her hair.) 

I would give something to know who that gentleman 
was to-day ! He had a gallant bearing, and is of a 
noble family, I am sure. I could read that on his brow ; 
besides, he would not else have been so impudent. 103 

[Exit. 

Mephistopheles — Faust. 
Mephistopheles. 
Come in — as softly as possible — only come in ! 

Faust (after a pause.) 
Leave me alone, I beg of you., 

Mephistopheles {looking round.) 
It is not every maiden that is so neat. [Exit. 

Faust {looking round.) 

Welcome, sweet twilight, that pervades this sanctu- 
ary ! Possess my heart, delicious pangs of love, you 
who live languishing on the dew of hope ! What a 
feeling of peace, order, and contentment breathes round ! 
What abundance in this poverty ! What bliss in this 
cell ! * 

(He throws himself upon the leathern easy-chair by the 
side of the bed.) 

Oh ! receive me, thou, who hast welcomed, with open 



126 



FAUST. 



arms, in joy and sorrow, the generations that are past. 
Ah, how often has a swarm of children clustered about 
this patriarchal throne. Here, perhaps, in gratitude for 
her Christmas-box, with the warm round cheek of child- 
hood — has my beloved piously kissed the withered 
hand of her grandsire. Maiden, I feel thy spirit of 
abundance and order flutter around me — that spirit 
which daily instructs thee like a mother — which bids 
thee spread the neat cloth upon the table, and curl the 
sand upon the floor. Dear hand ! so godlike ; you make 
the hut a heaven ; and here — 

(He lifts up a bed-curtain.) 
what blissful tremor seizes me ! Here could I linger for 
hours ! Nature ! here, in light dreams, you matured 
the born angel. Here lay the child ! its gentle bosom 
filled with warm life ; and here, with weavings of hal- 
lowed purity, the divine image developed itself. 

And thou, what has brought thee hither ? How 
deeply moved I feel ! What would'st thou here ? Why 
grows thy heart so heavy ? Poor Faust, I no longer 
know thee. 

Am I breathing an enchanted atmosphere ? 104 I 
panted so for instant enjoyment, and feel myself dissolv- 
ing into a dream of love. Are we the sport of every 
pressure of the air ? 

And if she entered this very moment, how would'st 
thou atone for thy guilt ! The big boaster, alas, how 
shrunk ! would lie, dissolved away, at her feet. 

Mephistopheles. 
Quick ! I see her coming below. 

Faust. 

Away, away ! I return no more. 



FAUST. 



127 



Mephistopheles. 

Here is a casket tolerably heavy. I took it from 
somewhere else. Place it instantly in the press. I 
promise you she will be fairly beside herself. I put 
baubles in it to gain another ; but children are children, 
and play is play, all the world over. 

Faust. 

I know not — shall I ? 

Mephistopheles, 

Is that a thing to ask about ? Perchance you mean 
to keep the treasure for yourself ? In that case, I advise 
you to spare the precious hours for your lusts, and 
further trouble to me. I hope you are not avaricious. 
I scratch my head, rub my hands — 

(He places the casket in the press and closes the lock.) 

But quick, away ! — to bend the sweet young creature 
to your heart's desire ; and now you look as if you were 
going to the lecture-room — as if Physic and Metaphysic 
were standing gray and bodily before you there. But 
away ! . [Exeunt. 

Margaret (with a lamp.) 

It feels so close, so sultry here. 105 (She opens the 
window.) And yet it is not so very warm without. I 
begin to feel I know not how. I wish my mother would 
come home. I tremble all over ; but I am a silly, timid 
woman. (She begins to sing as she undresses herself.) 

SONG. 

There was a king in Thule, 106 faithful even to the 
grave, to whom his dying mistress gave a golden goblet. 



128 



FAUST. 



He prized nothing above it ; he emptied it at every 
feast; his eyes overflowed as often as he drank out 
of it. 

And when he came to die, he reckoned up the cities 
in his kingdom ; he grudged none of them to his heir, 
but not so with the goblet. 

He sat at the royal banquet, with his knights around 
him, in his proud ancestral hall, there in his castle on 
the sea. 

There stood the old toper, took a parting draught of 
life's glow, and threw the hallowed goblet down into the 
waves. 

He saw it splash, fill, and sink deep into the sea ; his 
eyes fell, he never drank a drop more. 

( She opens the press to put away her clothes , and per- 
ceives the casket.) 

How came this bea itifu] casket here ? I am sure I 
locked the press. It is T * ery strange ! What is in it, 1 
wonder ? Perhaps some one brought it as a pledge, and 
my mother lent money upon it. A little key hangs by the 
ribbon ; I have a good mind to open it. What is here ? 
Good heavens ! look ! I have never seen anything like 
it in ail my born days ! A set of trinkets a countess 
might wear on the highest festival. How would the 
chain become me ? To whom can such finery belong ? 
(She puts them on, and ivalks before the looking-glass.) 
If the ear-rings were but mine ! one cuts quite a different 
figure in them. What avails your beauty, poor maiden ? 
That may be all very pretty and good, but they let it all 
be. You are praised, half in pity; but after gold 
presses — on gold hangs — everything. — Alas, for us 
poor ones ! 



PKOMENADE. 



Faust walking up and down thoughtfully. To him 
Mephtstopheles. 

By all despised love ! By the elements of hell ! 
Would that I knew something worse to curse by ! 

Faust, 

What is the matter ? What is it that pinches you so 
sharply ? I never saw such a face in my life ! 

Mephistopheles. 

I could give myself to the devil directly, were I not 
the devil myself. 

Faust. 

Is your brain disordered? It becomes you truly to 
rave like a madman. 

Mephistopheles. 

Only think ! A priest has carried off the jewels pro- 
vjd°d for "Margaret. The mother gets sight of the thing, 
and begins at once to have a secret horror of it. Truly, 
the woman hath a fine nose, is ever' snuffling in her 
prayer-book, and smells in every piece of furniture, 
whether the thing be holy or profane ; and she plainly 
smells out in the jewels, that there was not much bless- 
ing connected with them. " My child," said she, " ill- 
gotten wealth ensnares the soul, consumes the blood. 
We will consecrate it to the Mother of God ; she will 



130 



FAUST. 



gladden us with heavenly manna." Margaret made a 
wry face ; it is, after all, thought she, a gift-horse ; and 
truly, he cannot be godless, who brought it here so hand- 
somely. The mother sent for a priest. — Scarcely had 
lie heard the jest, but he seemed well pleased with the 
sight. He spoke, " this shows a good disposition ; who 
conquers himself, — he is the gainer. The church has 
a good stomach ; she has eaten up whole countries, and 
has never yet overeaten herself. The church alone, my 
good woman, can digest unrighteous wealth." 

Faust. 

That is a general custom ; a Jew and a King can do 
it too. 

Mephistopheles. 
So saying, he swept off clasp, chain, and ring, as if 
they were so many mushrooms ; thanked them neither 
more nor less than if it had been a basket of nuts ; prom- 
ised them all heavenly reward — and very much edified 
they were. 

Faust. 

And Margaret — 

Mephistopheles. 
Is now sitting full of restlessness, not knowing what 
to do with herself ; thinks day and night on the trinkets, 
and still more on him who gave them to her. 

Faust. 

My love's grief distresses me. Get her another set 
immediately. The first were no great things, after all. 

Mephistopheles. 
Oh ! to be sure, all is child's play to the gentleman ! 



FAUST. 



Faust. 

... 

Do it, and order it as I wish. Stick close to her 

neighbor. Don't be a milk-and-water devil ; and fetch 
a fresh set of jewels. 

Mephistopheles. 

With all my heart, honored sir. [Faust exit. 

A love-sick fool like this puffs away sun, moon, and 
all the stars indifferently, by way of pastime for his 
mistress. 



9 



THE NEIGHBOR'S HOUSE. 

Martha alone. 
God forgive my dear husband ; he has not acted well 
towards me. He goes straight away into the world, and 
leaves me widowed and lonely. Yet truly I never did 
anything to vex him; God knows I loved him to my 
heart. [She weeps.) Perhaps he is actually dead. Oh, 
torture ! Had I but a certificate of his death ! 

Margaret enters. 

Martha ! 

Martha. 

What is the matter, Margaret? 

Margaret. 

My knees almost sink under me ! I have found just 
such another ebony casket in my press — and things 
absolutely magnificent, far costlier than the first. 

Martha. 

You must say nothing about it to your mother. She 
would carry it to the confessional again. 

Margaret. 

Now, only see ! only look at them ! 

Martha dresses her up in them. 

Oh ! you happy creature. 

Margaret. 

Unfortunately, I must not be seen in them in the 
street, nor in the church. 



FAUST. 



133 



Martha. 

Do but come over frequently to me, and put on the 
trinkets here in private. Walk a little hour up and 
down before the looking-glass ; we shall have our enjoy- 
ment in that. And then an occasion offers, a festival 
occurs, where, little by little, one lets folks see them ; — 
first a chain, then the pearl ear-rings. Your mother, 
perhaps, will not observe it, or one may make some pre- 
tence to her. 

Margaret. 

But who could have brought the two caskets ? There 
is something not right about it. 

(Some one knocks.) 

Margaret. 
Good God ! can that be my mother ? 

Martha (looking through the blinds.) 
It is a stranger — come in. 

Mephistopheles enters. 

I have made free to come in at once ; I have to beg 
pardon of the ladies. 

(He steps back respectfully before Margaret.) 

I came to inquire after Mrs. Martha Schwerdtlein. 

Martha. 

I am she ; what is your pleasure, sir ? 

Mephistopheles (aside to her.) 
I know you now — that is enough. You have a vis- 
itor of distinction there. Excuse the liberty I have 
taken. I will call again in the afternoon. 



134 



FAUST. 



Martha (aloud.) 
Only think, child — of all things in the world ! this 
gentleman takes you for a lady. 

Margaret. 

I am a poor young creature. Oh ! heavens, the gen- 
tleman is too obliging. The jewels and ornaments are 
none of mine. 

Mephistopheles. 

Ah ! it is not the jewels alone. She has a mien, a 
look, so striking. How glad I am that 1 may stay ! 

Martha. 

What do you bring, then ? I am very curious — 

Mephistopheles. 
I wish 1 had better news. I hope you will not make 
me suffer for it. Your husband is dead, and sends you 
his compliments. 

Martha. 

Is dead ! the good soul ! Oh, woe is me ! My hus- 
band is dead ! Ah, 1 shall die ! 

Margaret. 
Dear, good Martha, don't despair. 

Mephistopheles. 
Listen to the melancholy tale. 

Margaret. 

For this reason I should wish never to be in love for 
all the days of my life. The loss would grieve me to 
death. 



FAUST. 



135 



Mephistopheles. 
Joy must have sorrow — sorrow, joy. 

Martha. 
Eelate to me the close of his life. 

Mephistopheles. 
He lies buried in Padua, at St. Antony's, in a spot 
well consecrated for a bed of rest, — eternally cool. 

Martha. 
Have you nothing else for me ? 

Mephistopheles. 

Yes, a request, big and heavy ! be sure to have three 
hundred masses sung for him. For the rest, my pockets 
are empty. 

Martha. 

What ! not a coin by way of token ? Not a trinket ? 
what every journeyman mechanic husbands at the bot- 
tom of his pouch, saved as a keepsake, and rather starves, 
rather begs — 

Mephistopheles. 
Madam, I am very sorry. But he really has not 
squandered away his money. He, too, bitterly repented 
of his sins ; ay, and bewailed his ill-luck still more. 

Margaret. 

Ah ! that mortals should be so unlucky. Assuredly I 
will sing many a reqidem for him. 

Mephistopheles. 
You deserve to be married directly. You are an 
amiable girl. 



136 



FAUST. 



Margaret. 
Oh, no, there is time enough for that. 

Mephistopheles. 
If not a husband, then a gallant in the mean time. It 
were one of the best gifts of heaven to have so sweet a 
thing in one's arms. 

Margaret. 
That is not the custom in this country. 

Mephistopheles. 
Custom or not, such things do come to pass, though. 

Martha. 

But relate to me — 

Mephistopheles. 

I stood by his death-bed. It was somewhat better 
than dung, — of half-rotten straw ; but he died like a 
Christian, and found that he had still much more upon 
his score. " How thoroughly," he cried, " must I detest 
myself — to run away from my business and my wife in 
such a manner. Oh ! the recollection is death to me. 
If she could but forgive me in this life ! " 

Martha (weeping.) 
The good man ! I have long since forgiven him. 

Mephistopheles. 
" But, God knows, she was more in fault than I." 

Martha. 

He lied then ! What, tell lies on the brink of the 
grave ! 



FAUST. 



137 



Mephistopheles. 
He certainly fabled with his last breath, if I am but 
half a connoisseur. " I," said he, " had no occasion to 
gape for pastime — first to get children, and then bread 
for them, and bread in the widest sense, — and could not 
even eat my share in peace." 

Martha. 

Did he thus forget all my faith, all my love — my 
drudgery by day and night ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Not so ; he affectionately reflected on it. He said : 
" When I left Malta, I prayed fervently for my wife and 
children ; and heaven was so far favorable, that our ship 
took a Turkish vessel, which carried a treasure of the 
great Sultan. Bravery had its reward, and, as was no 
more than right, I got my fair share of it." 

Martha. 

How ! where ! Can he have buried it ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Who knows where it is now scattered to the four 
winds of heaven ? A fair damsel took an interest in 
him as he was strolling about, a stranger, in Naples. 
She manifested great fondness and fidelity towards him ; 
so much so, that he felt it even unto his blessed end. 

Martha. 

The villain ! the robber of his children ! And all the 
wretchedness, all the poverty, could not check his scan- 
dalous life. 



138 



FAUST. 



Mephistopheles. 
But consider, he has paid for it with his life. Now, 
were I in your place, I would mourn him for one chaste 
year, and have an eye towards a new sweetheart in the 
mean time. 

Martha. 

Oh God ! but I shall not easily in this world find 
another like my first. There could hardly be a kinder- 
hearted fool ; he only loved being away from home too 
much, and stranger women, and stranger wine, and the 
cursed dicing. 

Mephistopheles. 
Well, well, things might have gone on very well, if 
he, on his part, only winked at an equal number of pec- 
cadillos in you. I protest, upon this condition, I would 
change rings with you myself ! 107 

Martha. 

Oh, the gentleman is pleased to jest. 

Mephistopheles (aside.) 
Now it is full time to be off. I dare say she would 
take the devil himself at his word. 

(To Margaret.) 
How feels your heart ? 

Margaret. 
What do you mean ? 

Mephistopheles (aside.) 
Good, innocent child. 

(aloud.) 

Farewell, ladies ! 



FAUST. 



139 



Margaret. 

Farewell ! 

Martha. 

Oh, but tell me quickly ! I should like to have a cer- 
tificate where, how, and when my love died and was 
buried. I was always a friend to regularity, and should 
like to read his death in the weekly papers. 

Mephistopheles. 
Ay, my good Madam, the truth is manifested by the 
testimony of two witnesses 108 all the world over ; and I 
have a gallant companion, whom I will bring before the 
judge for you. I will fetch him here. 

Martha. 

Oh, pray do ! 

Mephistopheles. 

And the young lady will be here too ? — a fine lad ! 
has travelled much, and shows all possible politeness to 
the ladies. 

Margaret. 

I should be covered with confusion in the presence of 
the gentleman. 

Mephistopheles. 
In the presence of no king on earth. 

Martha. 

Behind the house there, in my garden, we shall expect 
you both this evening. 



THE STEEET. 

Faust — Mephistopheles. 



Faust. 

How have you managed ? Is it in train ? Will it 
soon do ? 

Mephistopheles. 

Bravo ! Do I find you all on fire ? Margaret will 
very shortly be yours. This evening you will see her 
at her neighbor Martha's. That is a woman especially 
chosen, as it were, for the procuress and gypsy calling. 

Faust. 

So far so good. 

Mephistopheles. 
Something, however, is required of us. 

Faust. 

One good turn deserves another. 

Mephistopheles. 

We have only to make a formal deposition that the 
extended limbs of her lord repose in holy ground in 
Padua. 

Faust. 

Wisely done ! We shall first be obliged to take the 
journey thither, I suppose. 



FAUST. 



141 



Mephistopheles. 
Sancta simplicitas ! There is no necessity for that. 
Only bear witness without knowing much about the 
matter. 

Faust. 

If ycu have nothing better to propose, the scheme is 
at an end. 

Mephistopheles. 

Oh, holy man ! There 's for you now ! Is it the £rst 
time in your life that you have borne false testimony ? 
Have you not confidently given definitions of God, of the 
world, and of whatever moves in it — of man, and of the 
working of his head and heart — with unabashed front, 
dauntless breast ? And, looking fairly at the real nature 
of things, did you — you must confess you did not — did 
you know as much of these matters as of Mr. Schwerdt- 
lein's death ? 

Faust. 

Thou art and ever wilt be a liar, a sophist. 

Mephistopheles. 
Ay, if one did not look a little deeper. To-morrow, 
too, will you not, in all honor, make a fool of poor Mar- 
garet, and swear to love her with all your soul ? 

Faust. 
And truly from my heart. 

Mephistopheles. 
Fine talking ! Then will you speak of eternal truth 
and love — of one exclusive, all-absorbing passion ; — - 
will that also come from the heart ? 



142 



FAUST. 



Faust. 

Peace — it will ! — when I feel, and seek a name for 
the passion, the frenzy, but find none ; then range with 
all my senses through the world, grasp at all the most 
sublime expressions, and call this flame, which is con- 
suming me, endless, eternal, eternal ! — is that a devilish 
play of lies ? 

Mephistopheles. 
I am right, for all that. 

Faust. 

Hear ! mark this, I beg of you, and spare my lungs. 
He who is determined to be right, and has but a tongue, 
will be right undoubtedly. But, come, I am tired of 
gossiping. For you are right, particularly because I 
cannot help myself. 



GARDEN. 



Margaret on Faust's arm, Martha with Mephis- 
topheles, walking up and down. 

Margaret. 

I am sure that you are only trifling with me* — letting 
yourself down to shame me. Travellers are wont to put 
up with things out of complacency. I know too well 
that my poor prattle cannot entertain a man of your 
experience. 

Faust. 

A glance, a word from thee, gives greater pleasure 
than all the wisdom of this world. 

(He kisses her hand.) 

Margaret. 

Don't inconvenience yourself ! How can you kiss it ? 
It is so coarse, so hard. I have been obliged to do — 
heaven knows what not ; my mother is indeed too close. 

(They pass on.) 

Martha. 

And you, sir, are always travelling in this manner ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Alas, that business and duty should force us to it ! 
How many a place one quits with regret, and yet may 
not tarry in it ! 



144 



FAUST. 



Martha. 

It does very well, in the wild years of youth, to rove 
about freely through the world. But the evil day comes 
at last, and to sneak a solitary old bachelor to the grave 
— that was never well for any one yet. 

Mephistopheles. 
I shudder at the distant view of it. 

Martha. 

Then, worthy sir, think better of it in time. 

{They pass on.) 

Margaret. 

Ay ! out of sight out of mind ! Politeness sits easily 
on you. But you have friends in abundance : they are 
more sensible than I am. 

Faust. 

0, thou excellent creature ! believe me, what is called 
sensible, often better deserves the name of vanity and 
narrow-mindedness. 

Margaret. 

How? 

Faust. 

Alas, that simplicity, that innocence, never appreciates 
itself and its own hallowed worth ! That humility, 
lowliness — the highest gifts of love-fraught, bounteous 
nature — 

Margaret. 

Only think of me one little minute ; I shall have time 
enough to think of you. 



FAUST. 145 

Faust. 

You are much alone, I dare say ? 

Margaret. 

Yes, our household is but small, and yet it must be 
looked after. We keep no maid ; I am obliged to cook, 
sweep, knit and sew, and run early and late. And my 
mother is so precise in everything ! Not that she has 
such pressing occasion to restrict herself. We might 
do more than many others. My father left a nice little 
property — a small house and garden near the town. 
However, my days at present are tolerably quiet. My 
brother is a soldier ; my little sister is dead. I had my 
full share of trouble with her, but I would gladly take 
all the anxiety upon myself again, so dear was the child 
to me. 

Faust. 

An angel, if it resembled thee ! 

Margaret. 

I brought it up, and it loved me dearly. It was born 
after my father's death. We gave up my mother for 
lost, so sad was the condition she then lay in ; and she 
recovered very slowly, by degrees. Thus she could not 
think of suckling the poor little worm, and so I brought 
it up, all by myself, with milk and water. It thus 
became my own. On my arm, in my bosom it smiled, 
and sprawled, and grew. 

Faust. 

You have felt, no doubt, the purest joy. 

Margaret. 

And many anxious hours, too. The little one's cradle 



146 



FAUST. 



stood at night by my bed-side ; it could scarcely move 
but I was awake ; now obliged to give it drink ; now to 
take it to bed to me ; now, when it would not be quiet, 
to rise from bed, and walk up and down in the room 
dandling it ; and early in the morning, stand already at 
the wash-tub : then go to market and see to the house ; 
and so on, day after day. Under such circumstances, 
sir, one is not always in spirits ; but food and rest relish 
the better for it. (They pass on.) 

Martha. 

The poor women have the worst of it. It is no easy 
matter to convert an old bachelor. 

Mephistopheles. 
It only depends on one like you to teach me better. 

Martha. 

Tell me plainly, sir, have you never met with any one ? 
Has your heart never attached itself anywhere ? 

Mephistopheles. 
The proverb says — a hearth of one's own, a good wife, 
are worth pearls and gold. 

Martha. 

I mean, have you never had an inclination ? 

Mephistopheles. 
I have been in general very politely received. 



Martha. 

I wished to say — was your heart never seriously 
affected ? 



FAUST. 



147 



Mephistopheles. 
One should never venture to joke with women. 

Martha. 
Ah, you do not understand me. 

Mephistopheles. 
I am heartily sorry for it. But I understand — that 
you are very kind. (They pass on.) 

Faust. 

You knew me again, you little angel, the moment I 
entered the garden. 

Margaret. 
Did you not see it ? I cast down my eyes. 

Faust. 

And you forgive the liberty I took — my imprudence, 
as you were leaving the cathedral ? 

Margaret. 

I was quite abashed. Such a thing had never hap- 
pened to me before ; no one could say anything bad of 
me. Alas, thought I, has he seen anything bold, 
unmaidenly, in thy behavior? It seemed as if the 
thought suddenly struck him, " I need stand on no cere- 
mony with this girl." I must own I knew not what 
began to stir in your favor here ; but certainly I was 
right angry with myself for not being able to be more 
angry with you. 

Faust. 

Sweet love ! 

10 



148 



FAUST. 



Margaret. 

Wait a moment ! 
(She plucks a star-flower, and picks off the leaves one 
after the other.) 

Faust. 

What is that for — a nosegay ? 

Margaret. 
No, only for a game. 

Faust. 

How! 

Margaret. 
Go ! You will laugh at me. 
(She plucks off the leaves, and murmurs to herself.) 

Faust. 

What are you murmuring ? 

Margaret (half aloud.) 
He loves me — he loves me not ! 

Faust. 

Thou angelic being ! 

Margaret continues. 
Loves me — not — loves me — not — • 

(Plucking off the last leaf with fond delight!) 
He loves me ! 

Faust. 

Yes, my child. Let this flower-prophecy be to thee 
as a judgment from heaven. He loves thee ! Dost thou 
understand what that means ? He loves thee ! 

(He takes both her hands.) 



FAUST. 



149 



Margaret. 
I tremble all over ! 109 

Faust. 

Oh, tremble not. Let this look, let this pressure of 
the hand, say to thee what is unutterable ! — to give 
ourselves up wholly, and feel a bliss which must be 
eternal ! Eternal ! — its end would be despair ! No, 
no end I no end ! 

(Margaret presses his hand, breaks from hi?n, and 
runs away. He stands a moment in thought, and 
then follows her.) 

Martha (approaching.) 
The night is coming on. 

Mephistopheles. 
Ay, and we will away. 

Martha. 

I would ask you to stay here longer, but it is a wicked 
place. One would suppose no one had any other object 
or occupation than to gape after his neighbor's incomings 
and outgoings. And one comes to be talked about, 
behave as one will. And our pair of lovers ? 

Mephistopheles. 

Have flown up the walk yonder. Wanton butter- 
flies ! 

Martha. 
He seems fond of her. 

Mephistopheles. 
And she of him. Such is the way of the world. 



A SUMMER-HOUSE. 

(Margaret runs in, gets behind the door, holds the tip 
of her finger to her Hyps, and peeps through the 
crevice.) 

Margaret. 

He comes ! 

Faust enters. 

Ah, rogue, is it thus you trifle with me ? I have 
caught you at last. (He kisses her.) 

Margaret (embracing him, and returning the hiss.) 
Dearest ! from my heart I love thee ! 

(Mephistopheles knocks.) 
Faust (stamping.) 

Who is there ? 

Mephistopheles. 

A friend. 

Faust. 

A brute. 

Mephistopheles. 
It is time to part, I believe. 

Martha comes up. 
Yes, it is late, sir. 

FausTc 

May I not accompany you 2 



FATJST. 



151 



Margaret. 
My mother would — farewell ! 

Faust. 

Must I then go ? Farewell ! 

Martha. 

Adieu ! 

Margaret. 
Till our next speedy meeting ! 

[Faust and Mephistopheles exeunt. 

Margaret. 

Gracious God ! How many things such a man can 
think about ! How abashed I stand in his presence, and 
say yea to everything ! I am but a poor, silly girl ; I 
cannot conceive what he sees in me. 



* 



FOREST AND CAVERN. 



Faust {alone.) 

Sublime spirit ! thou gavest me, gavest me every 
thing I prayed for. Not in vain didst thou turn thy 
face in fire to me. Thou gavest me glorious nature for 
a kingdom, with power to feel, to enjoy her. It is not 
merely a cold, wondering visit that thou permittest me ; 
thou grudgest me not to look into her deep bosom, as 
into the bosom of a friend. Thou passest in review 
before me the whole series of animated things, and 
teachest me to know my brothers in the still wood, in 
the air, and in the water. And when the storm roars 
and creaks in the forest, and the giant pine, precipitating 
its neighbor-boughs and neighbor-stems, sweeps, crush- 
ing, down, — and the mountain thunders with a dead 
hollow muttering to the fall, — then thou bearest me 
oft to the sheltered cave ; then thou showest me to 
myself,- and deep mysterious wonders of my own breast 
reveal themselves. And when the clear moon, with its 
soothing influences, rises full in my view, — from the 
wall-like rocks, 110 out of the damp underwood, the silvery 
forms of past ages hover up to me, and soften the austere 
pleasure of contemplation. 

Oh, now I feel that nothing perfect falls to the lot of 
man ! With this beatitude, which brings me nearer and 
nearer to the gods, thou gavest me the companion, whom 
already I cannot do without ; although, cold and inso- 
lent, he degrades me in my own eyes, and turns thy 



FAUST. 



153 



gifts to nothing with a breath. He is ever kindling a 
wildfire in my heart for that lovely image. Thus do I 
reel from desire to enjoyment, and in enjoyment languish 
for desire. 

Meprtstopheles enters. 

Have you not had enough of this kind of life ? How 
can you delight in it so long ? It is ail well enough to 
try once, but then on again to something new. 

Faust. 

I would you had something else to do than to plague 
me in my happier hour. 

Mephistopheles. 
Well, well ! I will let you alone, if you wish. You 
need not say so in earnest. Truly, it is little to lose 
an ungracious, peevish, and crazy companion in you. 
The livelong day one has one's hands full. One cannot 
read in your worship's face what pleases you, and what 
to let alone. 

Faust. 

That is just the right tone ! He would fain be thanked 
for wearying me to death. 

Mephistopheles. 

Poor son of earth ! what sort of life would you have 
led without me ! I have cured you, for some time to 
come, of the crotchets of imagination, and, but for me, 
you would already have taken your departure from this 
globe. Why mope in caverns and fissures of rocks, like 
an owl ? Why sip in nourishment from sodden moss 
and dripping stone, like a toad ? A fair, sweet pastime ! 
The Doctor still sticks to you. 



154 



FAUST. 



Faust. 

Dost thou understand what new life-power this wan- 
dering in the desert procures for rne ? Ay, couldst thou 
have but a dim presentiment of it, thou wouldst be devil 
enough to grudge me my enjoyment. 

Mephistopheles. 
A super-earthly pleasure ! To lie on the mountains 
in darkness and dew — clasp earth and heaven ecstat- 
ically — swell yourself up to a god-head — rake through 
the earth's marrow w T ith your thronging presentiments — 
feel the whole six days' work in your bosom — in haughty 
might enjoy I know not what — now overflow in love's 
raptures, into all, with your earthly nature cast aside — 
and then the lofty intuition (with a gesture) — I must 
not say how — to end ! 

Faust. 

Fie upon you ! 

Mephistopheles. 
That is not your mind. You are entitled to cry fie ! 
so morally ! We must not name to chaste ears what 
chaste hearts cannot renounce. And, in a word, I do not 
grudge you the pleasure of lying to yourself occasionally. 
But you will not keep it up long. You are already 
driven back into your eld course, and, if this holds much 
longer, will be fretted into madness or torture and horror. 
Enough of this ! your little love sits yonder at home, and 
all to her is confined and melancholy. You are never 
absent from her thoughts. She loves you all subduingly. 
At first, your passion came overflowing, like a snow- 
flushed rivulet ; 111 you have poured it into her heart, 
and, lo ! your rivulet is dry again. Methinks, instead 



FAUST. 



155 



of reigning in the woods, your worship would do well to 
reward the poor young monkey for her love. The time 
seems lamentably long to her ; she stands at the window 
and watches the clouds roll away over the old walls of 
the town. " Were I a bird ! " 112 so runs her song, during 
all the day and half the night. One while she is cheer- 
ful, mostly sad, — one while fairly outwept ; 113 — then, 
again, composed, to all appearance — and ever lovesick ! 

Faust. 

Serpent ! serpent ! 

Mephistopheles (aside.) 
Good ! if I can but catch you ! 

Faust. 

Reprobate ! take thyself away, and name not the lovely 
woman. Bring not the desire for her sweet body before 
my half-distracted senses again ! 

Mephistopheles. 
What is to be done, then ? She thinks that you are 
off, and in some manner you are. 

Faust. 

I am near her, and were I ever so far off, I can never 
forget, never lose her. Nay, I already envy the very 
body of the Lord when her lips are touching it. 

Mephistopheles. 
Very well, my friend. I have often envied you the 
twin-pair, which feed among roses. 114 

Faust. 

Pander ! begone. 



156 



FAUST. 



Mephistopheles. 

Good again ! You rail, and I cannot help laughing. 
The God who made lad and lass, well understood the 
noble calling of making opportunity too. But away, it 
is a mighty matter to be sad about ! You should be- 
take yourself to your mistress' chamber — not, I think, 
to death. 

Faust. 

What are the joys of heaven in her arms ? Let me 
kindle on her breast ! Do I not feel her wretchedness 
unceasingly? Am I not the outcast — the houseless 
one? — the monster without aim or rest — who, like a 
cataract, dashed from rock to rock, in devouring fury 
towards the precipice ? And she, upon the side, with 
childlike simplicity, in her little cot upon the little 
mountain field, and all her homely cares embraced 
within that little world! 115 And I, the hated of God — 
it was not enough for me to grasp the rocks and smite 
them to shatters ! Her, her peace, must I undermine ! 
— Hell, thou could'st not rest without this sacrifice ! 
Devil, help me to shorten the pang ! Let what must be, 
be quickly ! Let her fate fall crushing upon me, and 
both of us perish together ! 

Mephistopheles. 
How it seethes and glows again ! Get in, and com- 
fort her, you fool ! — When such a noddle sees no outlet, 
it immediately represents to itself the end. He who 
bears himself bravely, forever ! And yet, on other occa- 
sions, you have a fair spice of the devil in you. 1 
know nothing in the world more insipid than a devil 
that despairs. 



MARGARET'S ROOM. 



Margaret alone, at the spinning-wheel. 

My peace is gone ; 
My heart is heavy ; 
I shall find it never, 
And never more. 

Where I have him not, 
Is the grave to me. 
The whole world 
Is imbittered to me. 

My poor head 
Is wandering, 
My feeble sense 
Distraught. 

My peace is gone ; 
My heart is heavy ; 
I shall find it never, 
And never more. 

For him alone look 1 
Out at the window ! 
For him alone go I 
Out of the house ! 

His stately step, 

His noble form ; 

The smile of his mouth, 

The power of his eyes, 



FAUST. 



And of his speech 
The witching flow ; 
The pressure of his hand, 
And, ah ! his kiss ! 

My peace is gone ; 
My heart is heavy ; 
I shall find it never, 
And never more. 

My bosom struggles 
After him. 

Ah ! could I enfold him 
And hold him ! and kiss him 
As I would ! 
On his kisses 
Would I die away ! 



MARTHA'S GARDEN, 

Margaret; Faust, 
Margaret. 
Promise me, Henry ! 

Faust. 

What I can! 

Margaret. 

Now, tell me, how do you feel as to religion ? You 
are a dear, good man, but I believe you don't think 
much of it. 

Faust. 

No more of that, my child ! you feel I love you ; 1 
would lay down my life for those I love, nor would I 
deprive any of their feeling and their church. 

Margaret. 
That is not right ; we must believe in it, 

Faust. 

Must we ? 

Margaret. 

Ah ! if I had any influence over you ! Besides, you 
do not honor the holy sacraments. 

Faust. 

I honor them. 



160 



FAUST. 



Margaret. 

But without desiring them. It is long since you went 
to mass or confession. Do you believe in God ? 

Faust. 

My love, who dares say, I believe in God ? You 
may ask priests and philosophers, and their answer will 
appear but a mockery of the questioner. 

Margaret. 
You don't believe, then ? 

Faust. 

Mistake me not, thou lovely one ! Who dare name 
him ? and who avow : " I believe in him ? " Who feel — 
and dare to say: "I believe in him not?" The All- 
embracer, the AU-sustainer, does he not embrace and 
sustain thee, me, himself ? Does not the heaven arch 
itself there above ? — Lies net the earth firm here below? 
— And do not eternal stars rise, kindly twinkling, on 
high ? — Are we not looking into each other's eyes, 116 
and is not all thronging to thy head and heart, and 
weaving in eternal mystery, invisibly — visibly, about 
thee ? With it fill thy heart, big as it is, and when 
thou art wholly blest in the feeling, then call it what 
thou wilt! Call it Bliss ! — Heart ! — Love ! — God ! 
I have no name for it ! 117 Feeling is all in all. Name 
is sound and smoke, 118 clouding heaven's glow. 

Margaret. 

That is all very fine and good. The priest says 
nearly the same, only with somewhat different words. 



FAUST. 



161 



Faust. 

All hearts in all places under the blessed light of day 
say it, each in its own language — why not in mine ? 

Margaret. 

Thus taken, it may pass ; but, for all that, there is 
something wrong about it, for thou hast no Christianity. 

Faust. 

Dear child ! 

Margaret. 

1 have long been grieved at the company I see you in, 
Faust. 

How so ? 

Margaret. 

The man you have with you is hateful to me in my 
inmost soul. 119 Nothing in the whole course of my life 
has given my heart such a pang, as the repulsive visage 
of that man. 

Faust. 
Fear him not, dear child. 

Margaret. 

His presence makes my blood creep. With this ex- 
ception, I have kind feelings towards everybody. But, 
much as I long to see you, I have an unaccountable 
horror of that man, and hold him for a rogue, besides. 
God forgive me, if I do him wrong. 

Faust. 

There must be such oddities, notwithstanding. 



162 



FATJST. 



Margaret. 

I would not live with the like of him. Whenever he 
comes to the door, he looks in so mockingly, and with 
fury but half-suppressed ; one sees that he sympathizes 
with nothing. It is written on his forehead that he can 
love no living soul. I feel so happy in thy arms — so 
unrestrained — in such glowing abandonment ; and his 
presence closes up my heart's core. 

Faust. 

You misgiving angel, you ! 

Margaret. 

It overcomes me to such a degree that when he but 
chances to join us, I even think I do not love you any 
longer. And in his presence I should never be able to 
pray ; and this eats into my heart. You, too, Henry, 
must feel the same. 

Faust. 

You have an antipathy, that is all. 

Margaret. 

I must go now. 

Faust. 

Ah, can I never recline one little hour undisturbed 
upon thy bosom, and press heart to heart, and soul to 
soul ! 

Margaret. 

Ah ! did I but sleep alone ! I would gladly leave the 
door unbolted for you this very night. But my mother 
does not sleep sound, and were she to catch us, I should 
die upon the spot. 



FAUST. 



163 



Faust. 

Thou angel, there is no fear of that. You see this 
phial? Only three drops in her drink will gently 
envelope nature in deep sleep. 

Margaret. 

What would I not do for thy sake ? It will do her no 
harm, I hope. 

Faust. 

Would I recommend it to you, my love, if it could ? 
Margaret. 

If, best of men, I do but look on you, I know not what 
drives me to comply with your will. I have already 
done so much for you, that next to nothing now remains 
for me to do. [Exit. 

(Mephistopheles enters.) 

Mephistopheles. 

The silly monkey ! is she gone ? 

Faust. 

Hast thou been playing the spy again ? 

Mephistopheles. 

I heard what passed, plainly enough. You were 
catechized, Doctor. Much good may it do you. The 
girls are certainly deeply interested in knowing whether 
a man be pious and plain after the old fashion. They 
say to themselves : "If he is pliable in that matter, he 
will also be pliable to us." 

Faust. 

Thou, monster as thou art, canst not conceive how 
this fond, faithful soul, full of her faith, 120 which, accord- 
11 



164 



FAUST. 



ing to her notions, is alone capable of conferring eternal 
happiness, feels a holy horror to think that she must 
hold her best beloved for lost. 

Mephistopheles. 
Thou super-sensual, sensual lover, a chit of a girl 
leads thee by the nose. 

Faust. 

Thou abortion of dirt and fire ! 

Mephistopheles. 
And she is knowing in physiognomy, too. In my 
presence she feels she knows not how. This little mask 
betokens some hidden sense. She feels that I am most 
assuredly a genius — perhaps the devil himself. To- 
night, then — ? 

Faust. 

What is that to you ? 

Mephistopheles. 
I have my pleasure in it, though. 



AT THE WELL. 



Margaret and Bessy with pitchers, 
Bessy. 

Have you heard nothing of Barbara ? 

Margaret. 
Not a word. I go very little abroad. 

Bessy. 

Certainly, Sybella told it me to-day. She has even 
made a fool of herself, at last. That comes of playing 
the fine lady. 

Margaret. 

How so ? 

Bessy. 

It is a bad business. She feeds two now, when she 
eats and drinks. 

Margaret. 

Ah! 

Bessy. 

She is rightly served, at last. What a time she has 
hung upon the fellow ! There was a promenading and 
a gallanting to village junketings and dancing booths 
- — she, forsooth, must be the first in everything — he 
was ever treating her to tarts and wine. She thought 



168 



FAUST. 



great things of her beauty, and was so lost to honor as 
not to be ashamed to receive presents from him. There 
was then a hugging and kissing — and, lo, the flower is 
gone ! 

Margaret. 

Poor thing ! 

Bessy. 

You really pity her ! When the like of us were at 
the spinning, our mothers never let us go down at 
night. She stood sweet with her lover ; on the bench 
before the door, and in the dark walk, the time was 
never too long for them. But now she may humble 
herself, and do penance, in a white sheet, in the church. 

Margaret. 
He will surely make her his wife. 

Bessy. 

He would be a fool if he did, A brisk young fellow 
has the world before him. Besides, he's off. 

Margaret. 
That 's not handsome ! 

Bessy. 

If she gets him, it will go ill with her. The boys 
will tear her garland for her, and we will strew cut 
straw before her door. 121 [Exit. 

Margaret (going home.) 
How stoutly I could formerly revile, if a poor maiden 
chanced to make a slip ! How I could never find words 



FAUST. 



167 



enough to speak of another's shame ! How black it 
seemed to me ! and, blacken it as I would, it was never 
black enough for me — and blessed myself and felt so 
grand, and am now myself a prey to sin ! Yet — all 
that drove me to it, was, God knows, so sweet, so dear ! 



ZWINGER. 122 



(In the niche of the wall a devotional image of the Mater 
Dolorosa™ with pots of flowers before it.) 

Margaret places fresh flowers in the pots. 

Ah, incline, 
Thou full of pain, 

Thy countenance graciously to my distress. 

The sword in thy heart, 

With thousand pangs 

Up-lookest thou to thy Son's death. 

To the Father look'st thou, 

And sendest sighs 

Aloft for his and thy distress. 

Who feels 

How rages 

My torment to the quick ? 
How the poor heart in me throbbeth, 
How it tremble th, how it yearneth, 
Knowest thou, and thou alone ! 

Whitherso'er I go, 

What woe, what woe, what woe, 

Grows within my bosom here ! 

Hardly, alas, am 1 alone, 

I weep, I weep, I weep, 

My heart is bursting within me ! 



FAUST. 



The flower-pots on my window-sill 
Bedewed I with my tears, alas ! 
When I at morning's dawn 
Plucked these flowers for thee. 

When brightly in my chamber 
The rising sun's rays shone, 
Already, in all wretchedness, 
Was I sitting up in my bed. 

Help ! rescue me from shame and death ! 
Ah, incline, 
Thou full of pain, 

Thy countenance graciously to my distress 



NIGHT. 



STREET BEFORE MARGARET'S DOOR 

Valentine [a soldier, Margaret's brother.) 
When I made one of a company, where many like to 
show off, and the fellows were loud in their praises of 
the flower of maidens, and drowned their commendation 
in bumpers, — with my elbows leaning on the board, I 
sat in quiet confidence, and listened to all their swagger- 
ing ; then I stroke my beard with a smile, and take the 
bumper in my hand, and say : " All very well in its 
way ! but is there one in the whole country to compare 
with my dear Margaret ; — who is fit to hold a candle 
to my sister ? " Hob and nob, kling ! klang ! so it 
went round ! Some shouted, "He is right ; she is the 
pear] of the whole sex;" and all those praisers were 
dumb. And now — it is enough to make one tear out 
one's hair by the roots, and run up the walls — I shall 
be twitted by the sneers and taunts of every knave, shall 
sit like a bankrupt debtor, and sweat at every chance 
word. And though I might crush them at a blow, yet I 
could not call them liars. Who comes there ? Who is 
slinking this way ? If I mistake not, there are two of 
them. If it is he, I will have at him at once ; he shall 
not leave this spot alive. 

Faust. 

How, from the window of the Sacristy there, the light 
of the eternal lamp flickers upwards, and glimmers 



FAUST. 



171 



weaker and weaker at the sides, and darkness thickens 
round ! Just so is all night-like in my breast. 

Mephistopheles. 

And I feel languishing like the tom-cat, that sneaks 
along the fire-ladders and then creeps stealthily round 
the walls. I feel quite virtuously, — with a spice of 
thievish pleasure, a spice of wantonness. In such a 
manner does the glorious Walpurgis night already thrill 
me through every limb. The day after to-morrow it 
comes round to us again; there one knows what one 
wakes for. 

Faust. 

In the mean time, can that be the treasure rising, 124 — 
that which I see glimmering yonder ? 

Mephistopheles. 
You will soon enjoy the lifting up of the casket. 1 
lately took a squint at it. There are capital lion-dol- 
lars 125 within. 

Faust. 

Not a trinket — not a ring — to adorn my lovely mis- 
tress with? 

Mephistopheles. 
I think I saw some such thing there as a sort of pearl 
necklace. 

Faust. 

That is well. 1 feel sorry when I go to her without a 
present. 

Mephistopheles. 
You ought not to regret having some enjoyment 
gratis. Now that the heavens are studded thick with 



172 



FAUST. 



stars, you shall hear a true piece of art. I will sing her 
a moral song, to make a fool of her the more certainly. 
(He sings to the guitar.) 

What are you doing here, Catherine, 126 before your 
lover's door at morning dawn ? Stay, and beware ! he 
lets thee in a maid, not to come out a maid. 

Beware ! If it be done, then good night to you, you 
poor, poor things. If you love yourselves, do nothing to 
pleasure any spoiler, except with the ring on the finger. 

Valentine comes forward. 
Whom art thou luring here ? by God ! thou cursed 
rat-catcher ! 127 First, to the devil with the instrument, 
then to the devil with the singer. 

Mephistopheles. 
The guitar is broken to pieces ! It is all up with it ! 

Valentine. 
Now then for a skull-cracking. 

Mephistopheles (to Faust.) 
Don't give way, Doctor ! Courage ! Stick close, 
and do as I tell you. Out with your toasting-iron ! 128 
Thrust away and I will parry. 



Parry that ! 
Why not ? 
And that ! 

To be sure. 



Valentine. 
Mephistopheles. 

Valentine. 
Mephistopheles. 



FAUST. 



173 



Valentine. 

I believe the devil is fighting. What is that ? My 
hand is already getting powerless. 

Mephistopheles (to Faust.) 
Thrust home ! 

Valentine falls. 

Oh, torture ! 

Mephistopheles. 

The clown is tamed now. But away! We must 
vanish in a twinkling, for a horrible outcry is already 
raised. I am perfectly at home with the police, but 
should find it hard to clear scores with the criminal 
courts. 129 

Martha (at the window.) 

Out! out! 

Margaret (at the window.) 
Bring a light ! 

Martha (as before.) 

They are railing and scuffling, screaming and fight- 
ing. 

People. 
Here lies one dead, already ! 

Martha (coming out.) 
Have the murderers escaped ? 

Margaret (coming out.) 
Who lies here ? 



174 



FAUST. 



People. 

Thy mother's son. 

Margaret. 
Almighty God ! what misery ! 

Valentine. 

I am dying ! that is soon said, and sooner still done. 
What are you women howling and wailing about? 
Approach and listen to me. 

[All come round him.) 
Look ye, Margaret ! you are still young ! you are not 
yet adroit enough, and manage your matters ill. I tell 
it you in confidence ; since you are, once for all, a whore, 
be one in good earnest. 

Margaret. 
Brother ! God ! What do you mean ? 

Valentine. 

Leave God out of the game. What is done, alas ! 
cannot be undone, and things will take their course. 
You begin privately with one ; more of them will soon 
follow: and when a dozen have had you, the whole 
town will have you too. 

When first shame is born, 130 she is brought into the 
w T orld clandestinely, and the veil of night is drawn over 
her head and ears. Ay, people would fain stifle her. 
But when she grows and waxes big, she walks flaunt- 
ingly in open day, and yet is not a whit the fairer. 
The uglier her face becomes, the more she courts the 
light of day. 

I already see the time when all honest citizens will 
turn aside from you, you whore, as from an infected 



FAUST. 



175 



corpse. Your heart will sink within you when they 
look you in the face. You will wear no golden chain 
again ! No more will you stand at the altar in the 
church, or take pride in a fair lace collar at the dance. 
You will hide yourself in some dark, miserable corner, 
amongst beggars and cripples, and, even should God for- 
give you, be cursed upon earth ! 

Martha. 

Commend your soul to God's mercy. Will you yet 
heap the sin of slander upon your soul ? 

Valentine. 

Could I but get at thy withered body, thou shameless 
bawd, I should hope to find a full measure of pardon for 
all my sins ! 

Margaret. 
My brother ! Oh, this agonizing pang ! 

Valentine. 

Have done with tears, I tell you. When you renounced 
honor, you gave me the deepest heartstab of all. I go 
through death's sleep unto God, a soldier and a brave 
one. (He dies.) 



CATHEDRAL. 
SERVICE, ORGAN, and ANTHEM. 

Margaret amongst a number of People. Evil Spirit 
behind Margaret. 131 

Evil Spirit. 
How different was it with thee, Margaret, 
When still full of innocence 
Thou earnest to the altar there — 
Out of the well-worn little book, 
Lispedst prayers, 
Half child-sport, 
Half God in the heart ! 
Margaret ! 
Where is thy head ? 
In thy heart 
What crime ? 

Prayest thou for thy mother's soul — who 
Slept over into long, long pain through thee ? 
Whose blood on thy threshold ? 

And under thy heart 

Stirs it not quickening, even now, 132 
Torturing itself and thee 
With its foreboding presence ? 

Margaret. 

Woe ! woe ! 

Would that I were free from the thoughts 
That come over and across me 
Despite of me ! 



FAUST. 



177 



Chorus. 
Dies irae, dies ilia 

Solvet sseclum in favilla. (Organ plays.) 

Evil Spirit. 
Horror seizes thee ! 
The Trump sounds ! 
The graves tremble ! 
And thy heart 
From the repose of its ashes 
For fiery torment 
Brought to life again, 
Trembles up ! 

Margaret. 
Would that I were hence 1 
I feel as if the organ 
Stifled my breath, 133 
As if the anthem 
Dissolved my heart's core ! 

Chorus. 
Judex ergo cum ^e debit 
Quidquid latet adparebit 
Nil inultum remanebit. 

Margaret. 
I feel so thronged ! 
The wall-pillars 
Close on me ! 
The vaulted roof 
Presses on me ! — Air f 



178 



FAUST. 



Evil Spirit. 

Hide thyself ! • Sin and shame 
Remain, unhidden. 
Air ? Light ? 
Woe to thee ! 

Chorus. 

Quid sum miser tunc dicturus ? 
Quern patronum rogaturus ? 
Cum vix justus sit securus. 

Evil Spirit. 

The glorified from thee 

Avert their faces. 

The pure shudder 

To reach thee their hands. 

Woe! 

Chorus. 

Quid sum miser tunc dicturus ? • 

Margaret. 
Neighbor ; your smelling-bottle ! 

(She swoons away) 



MAY-DAY NIGHT. 



THE HAETZ MOUNTAINS. 

District of Schirke and Elend. m 

Faust ; Mephistopheles. 

Me phistophe le s . 
Do you not long for a broomstick ? For my part, I 
should be glad of the roughest he-goat. By this road 
we are still far from our destination. 

Faust. 

So long as I feel fresh upon my legs, this knotted stick 
suffices me. What is the use of shortening the way? 
To creep along the labyrinth of the vales, and then 
ascend these rocks, from which the ever-bubbling spring 
precipitates itself, — this is the pleasure which gives zest 
to such a path. The spring is already weaving in the 
birch trees, and even the pine is beginning to feel it, — 
ought it not to have some effect upon our limbs ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Verily, I feel nothing of it. All is wintry in my body, 
and I should prefer frost and snow upon my path. How 
melancholy the imperfect disk of the red moon rises with 
belated glare ! and gives so bad a light, that, at every 
step, one runs against a tree or a rock. With your 
leave, I will call a wiil-o'the-wisp. I see one yonder, 
burning right merrily. Holloa, there, my friend ! may 
12 



180 



FAUST. 



I entreat your company ? Why wilt thou blaze away so 
uselessly ? Be so good as to light us up along here. 

Will-o 'the -Wisp. 
Out of reverence, I hope, I shall succeed in subduing 
my unsteady nature. Our course is ordinarily but a 
zig-zag one. 

Me phistophe le s . 
Ha ! ha ! you think to imitate men. But go straight, 
in the devil's name, or I will blow your nickering life 
out. 

Will-o 'the - Wisp . 
I see well that you are master here, and will willingly 
accommodate myself to you. But consider ! the moun- 
tain is magic-mad to-night, and if a will-o'the-wisp is to 
show you the way, you must not be too particular. 

Faust, Mephistopheles, Will-o 'the -Wisp, in alternate 

song. 

Into the sphere of dreams and enchantments, it seems, 
have we entered. Lead us right, and do yourself credit ! 
— that we may advance betimes in the wide, desolate 
regions. 

See trees after trees, how rapidly they move by ; and 
the cliffs, that bow, and the long-snouted rocks, how they 
snort, how they blow ! 

Through the stones, through the turf, brook and brook- 
ling hurry down. 135 Do I hear rustling? do I hear 
songs ? do I hear the sweet plaint of love ? — voices of 
those blest days ? — what we hope, what we love ! And 
Echo, like the tale of old times, sends back the sound. 



FAUST. 



181 



Tu-whit-tu-whoo 136 — it sounds nearer; the owl, the 
pewet, and the jay, — have they all remained awake ? 
Are those salamanders through the brake, with their long 
legs, thick paunches ? And the roots, like snakes, 137 
wind from out of rock and sand, and stretch forth 
strange filaments to terrify, to seize us : from coarse 
speckles, instinct with life, they set polypus-fibres for the 
traveller. And the mice, thousand-colored, in whole 
tribes, through the moss and through the heath ! And 
the glow-worms fly, in crowded swarms, a confounding 
escort. 

But tell me whether we stand still, or whether we are 
moving on. Everything seems to turn round, — rocks 
and trees, which make grimaces, and the will-o'the- 
wisps, which multiply, which swell themselves out. 

Mephistopheles. 

Keep a stout hold of my skirt ! Here is a central 
peak, from which one sees with wonder how Mammon 
is glowing in the mountain. 

Eaust. 

How strangely a melancholy light, of morning red, 
glimmers through the mountain gorges, and quivers even 
to the deepest recesses of the precipice ! Here rises a 
mine-damp, there float exhalations. Here the glow 
sparkles out of gauze-like vapor, then steals along like a 
fine thread, and then again bursts forth like a fountain. 
Here it winds, a whole track, with a hundred veins, 
through the valley ; and here, in the compressed corner, 
it scatters itself at once. 138 There sparks are sputtering 
near, like golden sand unsprinkled in the air. But, see ! 
the wall of rocks is on fire in all its height. 



182 



FAUST. 



Mephistopheles. 

Does not Sir Mammon illuminate his palace magnifi- 
cently for this festival ? It is lucky that you have seen 
it, I already see traces of the boisterous guests. 

Faust. 

How the storm-blast 139 is raging through the air T 
With what thumps it strikes against my neck ! 

Mephistopheles. 

You must lay hold of the old ribs of the rock, or it 
will hurl you down into this abyss. A mist thickens 
the night. Hark ! what a crashing through the forest ! 
The owls fly scared away. Hark, to the splintering of 
the pillars of the evergreen palaces ! the crackling and 
snapping of the boughs, the mighty groaning of the 
trunks, the creaking and yawning of the roots ! — All 
come crashing down, one over the other, in fearfully- 
confused fall ; and the winds hiss and howl through the 
wreck-covered cliffs ! Dost thou hear voices aloft ? — 
in the distance ? — close at hand ? — Ay, a raving witch- 
song streams along the whole mountain. 

The Witches (in chorus.) 
To the Brocken the witches repair ! The stubble is 
yellow, the sown-flelds are green. — There the huge 
multitude is assembled. Sir Urian 140 sits at the top. 

On they go, over stone and stock ; the witch s, the 

he-goat — — s. 141 

Voices. 

Old Baubo comes alone ; she rides upon a farrow- 
sow. 



FAUST. 183 

Chorus. 

Then honor to whom honor is due ! Mother Baubo 
to the front, and lead the way! A proper sow and 
mother upon her, — then follows the whole swarm of 
witches. 

Voice. 

Which way did you come ? 

Voice. 

By Ilsenstein. 142 I there peeped into the owl's nest. 
She gave me such a look ! 

Voice. 

Oh, drive to hell ! What a rate you are riding at ! 
Voice. 

She has grazed me in passing ; only look at the 
wound ! 

Chorus of Witches. 
The way is broad — the way is long. What mad 
throng is this ? The fork sticks — the besom scratches : 
the child is suffocated — the mother bursts. 

Wizards. — Half-Chorus. 
We steal along like snails in their house ; the women 
are all before ; for, in going to the house of the wicked 
one,' woman is a thousand steps in advance. 143 

The other Half. 
We do not take that so, precisely. The woman does 
it with a thousand steps ; but, let her make as much 
haste as she can, the man does it at a single bound. 



184 



FAUST. 



Voices (above.) 
Come with us, come with us, from Felsensee ! 

Voices [from below.) 
We should like to mount with you. We wash and 
are thoroughly clean, but we are ever barren. 

Both Choruses. 
The wind is still, the stars fly, the melancholy moon 
is giad to hide herself. The magic-choir sputters forth 
sparks by thousands in its whizzing. 

Voice (from below.) 

Hold! hold! 

Voice (from above.) 
Who calls there, from the cleft in the rock ? 

Voice (from below.) 

Take me with you ! take me with you ! I have been 
mounting for three hundred years already, and cannot 
reach the top. I would fain be with my fellows. 

Both Choruses. 
The besom carries, the stick carries, the fork carries, 
the he-goat carries. Who cannot raise himself to-night, 
is lost forever. 

Demi-Witch (below.) 
I have been tottering after such a length of time ; — 
how far the others are ahead already ! I have no rest 
at home, — and don't get it here, neither. 

Chorus of Witches. 
The salve gives courage to the witches ; a rag is good 



FAUST. 



185 



for a sail ; every trough makes a good ship ; he will 
never fly, who flew not to-night. 

Both Choruses. 

And when we round the peak, sweep along the ground, 
and cover the heath far and wide with your swarm of 
witch-hood. (They let themselves doiv?i.) 

Me phistophe le s . 
There 's crowding and pushing, rustling and clatter- 
ing ! There 's whizzing and twirling, bustling and bab- 
bling ! There 's glittering, sparkling, stinking, burning ! 
A true witch-element ! But stick close to me, or we 
shall be separated in a moment. Where art thou ? 

Faust (in the distance.) 

Here ! 

Mephistopheles. 
What ! already torn away so far ? I must exert my 
authority as master. Koom ! Squire Voland comes ! 
Make room, sweet people, 144 make room ! Here, Doctor, 
take hold of me ! and now, at one bound, let us get clear 
of the crowd. It is too mad, even for the like of me. 
Hard by there, shines something with a peculiar light. 
Something attracts me towards those bushes. Come 
along, we will slip in there. 

Faust. 

Thou spirit of contradiction ! But go on ! thou may'st 
lead me. But it was wisely done, to be sure ! We 
repair to the Brocken on Walpurgis' night ■ — to try and 
isolate ourselves when we ffet there. 

o 



186 



FAUST. 



M.EPHISTOPHELES. 

Only see what variegated flames ! A merry club is 
met together. One is not alone in a small company. 

Faust. 

I should prefer being above, though ! I already see 
flame and eddying smoke. Yonder the multitude is 
streaming to the Evil One. Many a riddle must there 
be untied. 145 

Mephistopheles. 
And many a riddle is also tied anew. Let the great 
world bluster as it will, we will here house ourselves 
in peace. It is an old saying, that in the great world 
one makes little worlds. Yonder I see young witches, 
naked and bare, and old ones who prudently cover 
themselves. Be compliant, if only for my sake ; the 
trouble is small, the sport is great. I hear the tuning 
of instruments. Confounded jangle ! One must accus- 
tom one's self to it. Come along, come along ! it can- 
not be otherwise. I will go forward and introduce you, 
and I shall lay you. under a fresh obligation. What 
say est thou, friend ? This is no trifling space. Only 
look ! you can hardly see the end. A hundred fires are 
burning in a row. People are dancing, talking, cooking, 
drinking, love-making ! Now tell me where anything 
better is to be found ! 

Faust. 

To introduce us here, do you intend to present your- 
self as wizard or devil ? 

Mephistopheles. 
In truth, I am much used to go incognito. But one 



FAUST. 



187 



shows one's orders on gala days, I have no garter to 
distinguish me, but the cloven foot is held in high 
honor here. Do you see the snail there ? she comes 
creeping up, and with her feelers has already found out 
something in me. Even if I would, I could not deny 
myself here. But come ! we will go from fire to fire ; I 
will be the pander, and you shall be the gallant. 

(To some who are sitting round some expiring embers.) 
Old gentlemen, what are you doing here at the ex- 
tremity ? I should commend you, did I find you nicely 
in the middle, in the thick of the riot and youthful rev- 
elry. Every one is surely enough alone at home. 

General. 

Who can put his trust in nations, though he has done 
ever so much for them ? For with the people, as with 
the women, youth has always the upper hand. 

Minister. 

At present, people are wide astray from the right path 
— the good old ones for me ! For verily, when we were 
all in all, that was the true golden age. 

Parvenu. 

We, too, were certainly no fools, and often did what 
we ought not. But now, everything is turned topsy- 
turvy, and just when we wished to keep it firm. 

Author. 

Who, now-a-days, speaking generally, likes to read a 
work of even moderate sense ? And as for the rising 
generation, they were never so malapert. 



188 



FAUST. 



Mephistopheles, 
(who all at once appears very old.) 
I feel the people ripe for doomsday, now that I ascend 
the witch-mountain for the last time ; 148 and because 
my own cask runs thick, the world also is come to the 
dregs. 

A Witch, 
(who sells old clothes and frippery.) 
Do not pass by in this manner, gentlemen ! Now 
is your time. Look at my wares attentively ; I have 
them of all sorts. And yet there is nothing in my 
shop which has not its fellow upon earth- — that has 
not, some time or other, wrought proper mischief to 
mankind and to the world. There is no dagger here, 
from which blood has not flowed ; 147 no chalice from 
which hot consuming poison has not been poured into 
a healthy body ; no trinket, which has not seduced some 
amiable woman ; no sword, which has not cut some tie 
asunder, which has not perchance stabbed an adversary 
from behind, 

Mephistopheles. 
Cousin ! you understand but ill the temper of the 
times. Done, happened ! Happened, done ! Take to 
dealing in novelties ; novelties only have any attraction 
for us. 

Faust. 

If I can but keep my senses ! This is a fair with a 
vengeance ! 

Mephistopheles. 
The whole throng struggles upwards. You think to 
shove, and you yourself are shoved. 



FAUST. 



189 



Faust. 

Who, then, is that ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Mark her well ! That is Lilith. 148 

Faust. 

Who? 

Mephistopheles. 

Adam's first wife. Beware of her fair hair, of that 
ornament in which she shines preeminent. When she 
ensnares a young man with it, she does not let him off 
again so easily. 

Faust. 

There sit two, the old one with the young one. They 
have already capered a good bit ! 

Me phistophe le s . 

That has neither stop nor stay to-night. A new dance 
is beginning ; come, we will set to. 

Faust {dancing with the young one.) 
I had once upon a time a fair dream. In it I saw 
an apple-tree ; two lovely apples glittered on it ; they 
enticed me, I climbed up. 

The Fair One. 
You are very fond of apples, and have been so from 
Paradise downwards. I feel moved with joy, that my 
garden also bears such. 

Mephtstopheles (with the old one.) 
I had once upon a time a wild dream. In it I saw a 



190 



FAUST. 



cleft tree. It had a ; as it was, it 

pleased me, notwithstanding. 

The Old One. 
I present my best respects to the knight of the cloven 

foot. Let him have a ready, if he does not 

fear . 

Procktophantasmist . 149 
Confounded mob ! how dare you ? Was it not long 
since demonstrated to you ? A spirit never stands upon 
ordinary feet ; and you are actually dancing away, like 
us other mortals ! 

The Fair One. 
What does he come to our ball for, then ? 

Faust [dancing.) 

Ha ! He is absolutely everywhere. He must ap- 
praise what others dance ! If he cannot talk about 
every step, the step is as good as never made at all. 
He is most vexed when we go forwards. If you would 
but turn round in a circle, as he does in his old mill, he 
would term that good, I dare say ; particularly were you 
to consult him about it. 

Procktophantas^iist. 
You are still there, then ! No, that is unheard of! 
But vanish ! We have enlightened the world, you 
know ! That devil's crew, they pay no attention to 
rules. We are so wise, and Tegel is haunted, notwith- 
standing ! How long have I not been sweeping away 
at the delusion ; and it never becomes clean ! It is 
unheard of ! 



FAUST. 



191 



The Fair One. 
Have done boring us here, at any rate, then ! 

Procktophantasmist. 
1 tell you, Spirits, to your faces, I endure not the des- 
potism of the spirit. My spirit cannot exercise it. 
[The dancing goes on.) 

To-night, I see, I shall succeed in nothing ; but I am 
always ready for a journey ; and still hope, before my 
last step, to get the better of devils and poets. 

Mephistopheles. 
. He will forthwith seat himself in a puddle ; that is 
his mode of soothing himself ; and when leeches have 
amused themselves on his rump, he is cured of spirits 
and spirit. 

[To Faust, who has left the dance.) 

Why do you leave the pretty girl, who sung so sweetly 
to you in the dance ? 

Faust. 

Ah ! in the middle of the song, a red mouse jumped 
out of her mouth. 150 

Mephistopheles. 
There is nothing out of the way in that. One must 
not be too nice about such matters. Enough that the 
mouse was not gray. Who cares for such things, in a 
moment of enjoyment ? 

Faust. 

Then I saw — 

Mephistopheles. 

What? 



102 



FAUST. 



Faust. 

Mephisto, do you see yonder a pale, fair girl, standing 
alone and far off? She drags herself but slowly from 
the place ; she seems to move with fettered feet. I must 
own, she seems to me to resemble poor Margaret. 

Me PHISTOPHE LE S . 

Have nothing to do with that ! no good can come of 
it, to any one. It is a creation of enchantment, is life- 
less, — an idol. It is not well to meet it ; the blood of 
man thickens at its chill look, 151 and he is wellnigh turned 
to stone. You have heard, no doubt, of Medusa. 

Faust. 

In truth they are the eyes of a corpse, which there 
was no fond hand to close. That is the bosom, which 
Margaret yielded to me ; that is the sweet body, which 
I enjoyed. 

Me PHISTOPHE LES. 

That is sorcery, thou easily deluded fool ! for she 
wears to every one the semblance of his beloved. 

Faust. 

What bliss ! what suffering ! I cannot tear myself 
from that look. How strangely does a single red line, no 
thicker than the back of a knife, adorn that lovely neck ! 

Mephistopheles. 

Eight ! I see it too. She can also carry her head 
under her arm, for Perseus has cut it off for her. But 
ever this fondness for delusion ! Come up the hill, 
however ; here all is as merry as in the Prater ; 152 and, 
if I am not bewitched, I actually see a theatre. What 
is going on here, then ? 



FAUST. 



193 



Servtbilis. 

They will recommence immediately. A new piece, 
the last of seven; — it is the custom here to give so 
many. A dilettante has written it, and dilettanti play 
it. Excuse me, gentlemen, but I must be off. It is my 
dilettante office to draw up the curtain. 

Mephistopheles. 
When I find you upon the Blocksberg, 153 — that is just 
what I approve ; for this is the proper place for you, 



WALPURGIS-NIGHT'S DREAM; 

OR 

OBERON AND TITANIA'S 
GOLDEN WEDDING-FEAST. 

INTERMEZZO. 154 



13 



Theatre-Manager. 
To-day we rest for once ; we, the brave sons of Mied- 
ing. Old mountain and damp dale — that is the whole 
scenery ! 

Herald. 

That the wedding-feast may be golden, fifty years are 
to be past ; but if the quarrel is over, I shall like the 
golden the better. 

Oberon. 

If ye spirits are with me, this is the time to show it : 
the king and the queen, they are united anew. 

Puck. 

When Puck comes and whirls himself about and his 
foot goes whisking in the dance, — hundreds come after 
to rejoice along w^ith him. 

Ariel. 

Ariel awakes the song, in tones of heavenly purity ; 
his music lures many trifles, but it also lures the fair. 

Oberon. 

"Wedded ones, who would agree, — let them take a 
lesson from us two. To make a couple love each other, 
it is only necessary to separate them. 

TlTANIA. 

If the husband looks gruff, and the wife be whimsical, 
take hold of both of them immediately. Conduct me her 
to the South, and him to the extremity of the North. 



198 



FAUST. 



Orchestra txjtti. 
Fortissimo. 

Flies' snouts, and gnats' noses, with their kindred! 
Frog in the leaves, and cricket in the grass : they are 
the musicians. 

Solo. 

See, here comes the bagpipe ! It is the soap-bubble. 
Hark to the Schnecke-schnicke-schnack through its snub- 
nose. 

Spirit that is fashioning itself. 
Spider's foot and toad's belly, and little wings for the 
little wight ! It does not make an animalcula, it is true, 
but it makes a little poem. 

A Pair of Lovers. 
Little step and high bound, through honey-dew and 
exhalations. Truly, you trip it me enough, but you do 
not mount into the air. 

Inquisitive Traveller. 
Is not this masquerading-mockery ? Can I believe 
my eyes ? To see the beauteous god, Oberon, here to- 
night, too ! 

Orthodox. 

No claws, no tail ! Yet it stands beyond a doubt, 
that, even as " The Gods of Greece," so is he too a devil. 

Northern Artist. 
What I catch is at present only sketch-ways, as it 
were ; but I prepare myself betimes for the Italian jour- 
ney. 

Purist. 

Ah ! my ill -fortune brings me hither ; what a constant 
scene of rioting ! and of the whole host of witches, only 
two are powdered. 



FAUST. 



199 



Young Witch. 

Powder as well as petticoats are for little old and gray 
women. Therefore I sit naked upon my he-goat, and 
show a stout body. 

Matron. 

We have too much good breeding to squabble with 
you here. But I hope you will rot, young and delicate 
as you are. 

Leader of the Band. 

Flies' snouts and gnats' noses, don't swarm so about 
the naked. Frog in leaves, and cricket in the grass ! 
Continue, however, to keep time, I beg of you. 

Weathercock {towards one side.) 

Company to one's heart's content ! Truly, nothing 
but brides ! and young bachelors, man for man ! the 
hopefullest people ! 

Weathercock [towards the other side.) 

And if the ground does not open, to swallow up all of 
them — with a quick run, I will immediately jump into 
hell 

Xenien. 

We are here as insects, with little sharp nebs, to 
honor Satan, our worshipful papa, according to his dig- 
nity. 

Hennings. 

See! how naively they joke together in a crowded 
troop. They will e'en say, in the end, that they had 
good hearts. 



200 



FAUST. 



MlJSAGET. 

I like full well to lose myself in this host of witches ; 
for, truly, I should know how to manage these better 
than Muses. 

Ci-Devant Genius of the Age. 

With proper people, one becomes somebody. Come, 
take hold of my skirt ! The Blocksberg, like the Ger- 
man Parnassus, has a very broad top. 

Inquisitive Traveller. 
Tell me, what is the name of that stiff man? He 
walks with stiff steps. He snuffles everything he can 
snuffle. " He is scenting out Jesuits." 

The Crane. 

I like to fish in clear and even in troubled waters. 
On the same principle you see the pious gentleman as- 
sociate even with devils. 

Worldling. 

Ay, for the pious, believe me, everything is a vehicle. 
They actually form many a conventicle, here upon the 
Blocksberg. 

Dancer. 

Here is surely a new choir coming ! I hear distant 
drums. But don't disturb yourselves ! there are single- 
toned bitterns among the reeds. 

Dancing-Master.^ 

How each throws up his legs ! gets on as best he may ! 
The crooked jumps, the clumsy hops, and asks not how 
it looks. 

# This and the following stanza were added in the last com 
.plete Edition of Goethe's "Works. 



FAUST. 



201, 



Fiddler. 

How deeply this pack of ragamuffins hate each other, 
and how gladly they would give each other the finishing 
blow! the bagpipe unites them here, as Orpheus' lyre 
the beasts. 

Dogmatist. 

I will not be put out of my opinion, not by either 
critics or doubts. The devil, though, must be some- 
thing ; for how else could there be devils ? 

Idealist. 

Phantasy, this once, is really too masterful in my 
mind. Truly, if I be that All, I must be beside myself 
to-day. 

Realist. 

Entity is a regular plague to me, and cannot but vex 
me much. 1 stand here, for the first time, not firm upon 
my feet. 

StIPERNATURALIST, 

1 am greatly pleased at being here, and am delighted 
with these ; for, from devils, I can certainly draw con- 
clusions as to good spirits. 

Sceptic. 

They follow the track of the flame, and believe them- 
selves near the treasure. Only doubt (zweifel) rhymes 
to devil (teufel.) Here I am quite at home. 

Leader of the Band. 
Frog in the leaves, and cricket in the grass ! Con- 
founded dilettanti ! Flies' snouts and gnats' noses ; you 
are fine musicians ! 



202 FAUST. 

The Knowing Ones. 

Sansouci, that is the name of the host of merry crea- 
tures. There is no longer any walking upon feet, 
wherefore we walk upon our heads. 

The Maladroit Ones. 

In times past we have sponged many a tit-bit ; but now, 
good-bye to all that ! Our shoes are danced through ; 
we run on bare soles. 

Will-o 'the -Wisps. 

We come from the bog, from which we are just 
sprung ; but we are the glittering gallants here in the 
dance directly. 

Star-Shoot. 

From on high, in star-and-flre-light, I shot hither. 
I am now lying crooked-ways in the grass ; who will 
help me upon my legs ? 

The Massive Ones. 
Eoom ! room ! and round about ! so down go the 
grass-stalks. Spirits are coming, but, spirits as they are, 
they have plump limbs. 

Puck. 

Don't tread so heavily, like elephants' calves ; and the 
plumpest on this day be the stout Puck himself. 

Ariel. 

If kind nature gave — if the spirit gave you wings, 
follow my light track up to the hill of roses ! 

Orchestra (pianissimo.) 
Drifting clouds, and wreathed mists, brighten from on 
high ! Breeze in the leaves, and wind in the rushes, and 
all is dissipated ! 



A GLOOMY DAY. — A PLAIN. 



Faust ; Mephistopheles. 
Faust. 

In misery ! Despairing ! £<ong a wretched wanderer 
upon the earth, and now a prisoner ! The dear, unhappy 
being, cooped up in the dungeon, as a malefactor, for 
horrid tortures ! Even to that ! to that ! Treacherous, 
worthless Spirit, and this hast thou concealed from me ! 
Stand, only stand ! roll thy devilish eyes infuriated in 
thy head ! Stand and brave me with thy unbearable 
presence ! A prisoner ! In irremediable misery ! Given 
over to evil spirits, and to sentence-passing, unfeeling 
man ! 155 And me, in the mean time, hast thou been 
lulling with tasteless dissipations, concealing her grow- 
ing wretchedness from me, and leaving her to perish 
without help. 

Mephistopheles. 
She is not the first. 

Faust. 

Dog ! horrible monster ! — Turn him, thou Infinite 
Spirit ! turn the reptile back again into his dog's shape, 
in which he was often pleased to trot before me by night, 
to roil before the feet 156 of the harmless wanderer, and 
fasten on his shoulders when he fell. Turn him again 
into his favorite shape, that he may crouch on his belly 
before me in the sand, whilst I spurn him with my foot, 



204 



FAUST. 



the reprobate ! Not the first ! Woe ! woe ! It is in- 
conceivable by any human soul, that more than one crea- 
ture can have sunk into such a depth of misery, — that 
the first, in its writhing-death-agony, was not sufficient 
to atone for the guilt of all the rest in the sight of the 
Ever-pardoning. It harrows up my marrow and my 
very life, — the misery of this one: thou art grinning 
calmly at the fate of thousands. 

Mephistopheles. 

Now are we already *at our wits' end again ! just 
where the sense of you mortals snaps with overstraining. 
Why dost thou enter into fellowship with us, if thou 
canst not go through with it ? Will'st fly, and art not 
safe from dizziness ? Did we force ourselves on thee, or 
thou thyself on us ? 

Faust. 

Gnash not thy greedy teeth thus defyingly at me ! 
I loathe thee ! Great, glorious Spirit, thou who deignest 
to appear to me, thou who knowest my heart and my 
soul, why yoke me to this shame-fellow, who feeds on 
mischief, and battens on destruction ! 

Mephistopheles. 

Hast done ? 

Faust. 

Save her ! or woe to thee ! The most horrible curse 
on thee for thousands of years ! 

Mephistopheles. 
I cannot loosen the shackles of the avenger, nor undo 
his bolts. — Save her ! Who was it that plunged her 
into ruin ? I or thou ? 



FAUST. 



205 



(Faust looks wildly around.) 
Art thou grasping after the thunder? Well that it is 
not given to you wretched mortals ! To dash to pieces 
one who replies to you in all innocence — that is just the 
tyrant's way of venting himself in perplexities. 

Faust. 

Bring me thither ! She shall be free ! 

Me phistophe le s . 
And the danger to which you expose yourself! 
Know, the guilt of blood, from your hand, still lies upon 
the town. Avenging spirits hover over the place of the 
slain, and lie in wait for the returning murderer. 

Faust. 

That, too, from thee ? Murder and death of a world 
upon thee, monster ! Conduct me thither, I say, and 
free her ! 

Me phistophe les. 
1 will conduct thee, and what I can, hear ! Have I 
all power in heaven and upon earth ? I will cloud the 
gaoler's senses ; do you possess yourself of the keys, and 
bear her off with human hand. I will watch ! The 
magic horses will be ready, I will bear you off. This 
much I can do. 

Faust. 

Up and away ! 



NIGHT. — OPEN PLAIN. 

Faust and Mephistopheles rushing along upon black 
horses, 

Faust. 

What are they working — those about the Ravenstone 
yonder ? 157 

Mephistopheles. 

— Can't tell what they 're cooking and making. 

Faust. 

— Are waving upwards — waving downwards — bend- 
ing — stooping. 

Mephistopheles. 
A witch company. 

Faust. 

They are sprinkling and charming. 

Mephistopheles. 

On! on! 



DUNGEON. 



Faust. 

( With a bunch of keys and a lamp, before an iron wicket.) 

A tremor, long unfelt, seizes me ; the concentrated 
misery of mankind fastens on me. Here, behind these 
damp walls, is her dwelling-place, and her crime was a 
good delusion ! 158 Thou hesitatest to go to her ! Thou 
fearest to see her again ! On ! thy irresolution lingers 
death hitherwards. 

(He takes hold of the lock. — Singing within.) 

My mother, the whore, 159 

That killed me ! 

My father, the rogue, 

That ate me up ! 

My little sister 

Picked up the bones 

At a cool place ! 

There I became a beautiful little wood-bird. 
Fly away ! fly away ! 

Faust (opening the lock.) 
She has no presentiment that her lover is listening, 
hears the chains clank, the straw rustle. 

(He enters.) 



Margaret (hiding her face tn the bed of straw.) 
Woe ! woe ! They come. Bitter death ! 



208 



FAUST. 



Faxjst [softly.) 
Hush ! hush ! I come to free thee. 

Margaret [throwing herself before him.) 
If thou art human, feel for my wretchedness. 

Faust. 

You will wake the guard by your cries ! 

[He takes hold of the chains to unlock them.) 

Margaret [on her knees.) 

Who has given you, headsman, this power over me ? 
You come for me whilst it is yet midnight. Be merci- 
ful, and let me live. Is not to-morrow morning soon 
enough ? [She stands up.) 

I am yet so young, so young ! and am to die already ! 
I was fair, too, and that was my undoing ! 160 My true- 
love was near — he is now far away. Torn lies my 
garland, scattered the flowers. Don't take hold of me 
so roughly ! Spare me ! What have I done to you ? 
Let me not implore in vain ! I never saw you before in 
all my life, you know ! 

Faust. 
Can I endure this misery ! 

Margaret. 

I am now entirely in thy power. Only let me first 
give suck to the child. I pressed it this whole night to 
my heart. They took it away to vex me, and now say 
I killed it. And I shall never be happy again. They 
sing songs upon me ! It is wicked of the people. An 
old tale ends so, — who bids them apply it ? 



FAUST. 



209 



Faust throws himself on the ground, 
A lover lies at thy feet, to unloose the bonds of 
wretchedness. 

Margaret throws herself by his side. 
Ay, let us kneel to invoke the saints. See under 
these steps, under the threshold, hell is seething ! The 
Evil One, with fearful fury, is making a din. 

Faust (passionately.) 
Margaret ! Margaret ! 

Margaret (listening.) 
That was my true-love's voice. 

(She springs up. The chains fall off.) 
Where is he ? I heard him call. I am free ! Nobody 
shall hinder me. I will fly to his neck ! lie on his 
bosom ! He called Margaret ! He stood upon the 
threshold. In the midst, through the howling and clat- 
tering of hell, through the grim, devilish scoffing, I knew 
the sweet, the loving tone again. 

Faust. 

'Tis I. 

Margaret. 
'T is thou ! Ah, say so once again ! 

(Clasping him.) 

'T is he ! 'T is he ! Whither is all my wretched- 
ness ? Whither the agony of the dungeon ? — the 
chains ? 'T is thou ! Thou comest to save me. I am 
saved ! — There again already is the street, where I 
saw thee for the first time ; and the cheerful garden 
where I and Martha waited for thee. 



210 



FAUST. 



Faust {striving to take her away.) 
Come ! come with me ! 

Margaret. 
Oh, stay ! I like to stay where thou stayest. 

(Caressing him.) 

Faust. 

Haste ! If you do not make haste, we shall pay 
dearly for it. 

Margaret. 

What ! you can no longer kiss ? So short a time 
away from me, my love, and already forgotten how to 
kiss ! Why do I feel so sad upon your neck ? when, in 
other times, a whole heaven came over me from your 
words, your looks ; and you kissed me as if you were 
going to smother me ! Kiss me ! or I will kiss you ! 

(She embraces him.) 
woe ! your lips are cold, — are dumb. Where have 
you left your love ? who has robbed me of it ? 

(She turns from him.) 

Faust. 

Come ! follow me ! take courage, my love. I will 
press thee to my heart with thousandfold warmth — 
only follow me ! I ask thee but this. 

Margaret ^turning to him.) 
And is it thou, then ? And is it thou, indeed ? 

Faust. 

'T is I. Come alo/ig. 



FAUST. 



211 



Margaret. 

You undo my fetters, you take me to your bosom 
again ! How comes it that you are not. afraid of me ? 
And do you then know, my love, whom you are freeing ? 

Faust. 

Come, come ! the depth of night is already passing 
away. 

Margaret. 

I have killed my mother, I have drowned my child. 
Was it not bestowed on thee and me ? — on thee, too ? 
'T is thou ! I scarcely believe it. Give me thy hand. 
It is no dream — thy dear hand ! — but oh, 't is damp ! 
Wipe it off. It seems to me as if there was blood on 
it. Oh, God ! what hast thou done ? Put up thy 
sword ! I pray thee, do ! 

Faust. 

Let what is past, be past. 161 Thou wilt kill me. 
Margaret. 

No, you must remain behind. I will describe the 
graves to you ! you must see to them the first thing 
to-morrow. Give my mother the best place; — my 
brother close by ; — me, a little on one side, only not 
too far off ! And the little one on my right breast ; no 
one else will lie by me. To nestle to thy side, — that 
was a sweet, a dear delight ! But it will never be mine 
again. I feel as if I were irresistibly drawn to you, and 
you were thrusting me off. And yet, 't is you ; and you 
look so good, so kind. 

Faust. 

If you feel that 't is I, come along. 
14 



212 



FAUST. 



Margaret. 

Out there ? 

Faust. 

Into the free air ! 

Margaret. 

If the grave is without, if death lies in wait, — then 
come ! Hence into the eternal resting-place, and not a 
step further. — Thou art now going away ? Henry, 
could I but go too ! 

Faust. 

Thou canst ! Only consent ! The door stands open. 
Margaret. 

I dare not go out ; there is no hope for me ! What 
avails it flying ? They are lying in wait for me. It is 
so miserable to be obliged to beg, — and, what is worse, 
with an evil conscience, too. It is so miserable to wan- 
der in a strange land, — and they will catch me, do as 
I will. 

Faust. 

I shall be with thee. 

Margaret. 

Quick, quick ! Save thy poor child. Away ! Keep 
the path up by the brook — over the bridge — into the 
wood — to the left where the plank is — in the pond. 162 
Only quick and catch hold of it ! it tries to rise ! it is 
still struggling ! Help ! help ! 

Faust. 

Be calm, I pray ! Only one step, and thou art free. 



FAUST. 



213 



Margaret. 

Were we but past the hill ! There sits my mother 
on a stone — my brain grows chill ! — there sits my 
mother on a stone, and waves her head to and fro. She 
beckons not, she nods not, her head is heavy ; she slept 
so long, she '11 wake no more. She slept that we might 
enjoy ourselves. Those were pleasant times ! 

Faust. 

As no prayer, no persuasion, is here of any avail, I 
will risk the bearing thee away. 

Margaret. 

Let me go ! No, I endure no violence ! Lay not 
hold of me so murderously ! Time was, you know, 
when I did all to pleasure you. 

Faust. 

The day is dawning ! My love ! my love ! 
Margaret. 

Day ! Yes, it is growing day ! The last day is 
breaking in ! My wedding-day it was to be ! Tell no 
one that thou hadst been with Margaret already. Woe 
to my garland ! It is all over now ! We shall meet 
again, but not at the dance. The crowd thickens ; it is 
not heard. The square, the streets, cannot hold them. 
The bell tolls — the staff breaks ! 163 How they bind and 
seize me ! Already am I hurried off to the blood-seat ! 164 
Already quivering for every neck is the sharp steel which 
quivers for mine. Dumb lies the world as the grave ! 

Faust. 

Oh that I had never been born ! 



214 



FAUST. 



Mephtstopheles appears without. 
Up ! or you are lost. Vain hesitation ! Lingering 
and prattling ! My horses shudder ; the morning is 
gloaming up. 

Margaret. 

What rises up from the floor ? He ! He ! Send him 
away ! What would he at the holy place ? He would 
me ! 

Faust. 

Thou shalt live ! 

Margaret. 

Judgment of God ! I have given myself up to thee. 

Mephistopheles (to Faust.) 

Come ! come ! I will leave you in the scrape with 
her. 

Margaret. 

Thine am I, Father ! Save me, ye Angels ! Ye 
Holy Hosts, range yourselves round about, to guard 
me ! 165 Henry ! I tremble to look upon thee. 

Mephistopheles. 
She is judged ! 166 

Voice from above. 

Is saved ! 

Mephistopheles (to Faust.) 
Hither to me ! (Disappears with Faust.) 

Voice from within^ dying away. 
Henry ! Henry ! 



NOTES. 



NOTES. 



1. They hear not the following lays, — the souls to whom I sang 
my first. 1 — To understand the Dedication, it is necessary to 
refer to the history of the book. The plan of Faust appears to 
have been in Goethe's mind very early in life. In the list ap- 
pended to the Stuttgart and Tubingen octavo edition of 1819, he 
puts it down amongst the works written between 1769 and 
1775. In the second part of the Dichtung und Wahrheit, (Book 
18,) he states that he showed the newest scenes of Faust to 
Klopstock, who expressed himself much pleased, and (contrary 
to his custom) spoke of the poem with decided commendation 
to others. This must have taken place early in the year 1775. 
Maler Miiller, also, in the prefatory epistle to his Faust, pub- 
lished about 1778, mentions a report that Goethe and Lessing 
were engaged upon the same subject. The poem was first 
published in 1790, and forms the commencement of the seventh 
volume of Goethe's Schriften : Wien und Leipzig, bey J. Stahel 
und G. J. Gbschen, 1790. This edition is now before me. The 
poem is entitled, Faust : Ein Fragment, (not DoJctor Faust, Ein 
Trauerspiel, as During says,) and contains no prologue or dedi- 
cation of any sort. It commences with the scene in Faust's 
study, (ante, p. 17,) and is continued as now down to the pas- 
sage ending (ante, p. 25,) line 16. In the original, the line — 



" Und froh ist, wenn er Regenwurrner findet " — 



218 



NOTES. 



ends the scene. The next scene is one between Faust and 
Mephistopheles, and begins thus : — 

Faust. 

" Und was der ganzen Menschheit zugetheilt ist " — 

i. e., with the passage (ante, p. 65) beginning : — "I will enjoy- 
in my own heart's core all that is parcelled out amongst 
mankind/"' &c. All that intervenes in later editions is want- 
ing. It is thenceforth continued as now to the end of the 
Cathedral scene (ante, p. 156) ; except that the whole scene 
in which Valentine is killed is wanting. Thus Margaret's 
prayer to the Virgin, and the Cathedral scene, come together 
and form the conclusion of the work. According to Doring's 
Verzeichniss, there was no new edition of Faust until 1807. 
According to Dr. Stieglitz, the First Part of Faust first ap- 
peared in its present shape in the collected edition of Goethe's 
works, which was published in 1S03. I applied to Cotta, but 
could get no definite information as to the point, nor have I been 
yet fortunate enough to meet with the edition in question. 

Since this was written, I have been favored by a communi- 
cation from M- Varnhagen von Ense, in the course of which 
he states that the First Part first appeared in the edition of 
Goethe's works published in duodecimo in 1807, and in octavo 
in 1808. From the correspondence between Zelter and Goethe, 
however, it would seem that this edition did not appear until 
1808 ; for in a letter, dated July 13th, 1808, we find Zelter 
acknowledging the receipt of the completed Faust, and request- 
ing an explanation of the Intermezzo, which unluckily is not 
afforded to him. — (Vol. i., p. 322.) 

2. Prologue on the Theatre^ — It must be borne in mind 
that the theatre is one of those temporary theatres or booths 
which are common at fairs, and that the company is supposed 
to be an itinerant one. 

3. Pleasing and instructive at once.] — 

" Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci." — (Horace.) 



NOTES. 



213 



4. People come to look.] — 

" Segnius irritant animos demissa per aures, 
Quam quae sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus, et quae 
Ipse sibii tradit spectator." — {Horace.) 

5. Who brings much) will bring something to many a one.] — 
The following passage in one of Madame de Sevigne's letters 
is a striking illustration of this aphorism and the passage it is 
taken from : " La Comedie des Visionnaires nous rejouit beau- 
coup : nous trouvames que c'est la representation de tout le 
monde ; chacun a ses visions plus ou moins marquees." The 
author of this play was Jean Desmerets de Saint- Sortin. 

6. Begone, fyc] — Compare Wilhelm Meister 3 (Book ii. chap, 
ii.,) in which somewhat similar notions of the poet's vocation 
are put into the mouth of the hero. 

7. Much falsehood and a spark of truth.] — "I cannot tell 
why, this same truth is a naked and open daylight, that doth 
not show the masques, and mummeries, and triumphs of the 
present world, half so stately and daintily as candle-lights. 
Truth may perhaps come to the price of a pearl that showeth 
best by day ; but it will not rise to the price of a diamond or 
carbuncle, which showeth best in varied lights. A mixture of 
lies doth ever add pleasure. Doth any man doubt, that, if there 
were taken from men's minds vain opinions, flattering hopes, 
false valuations, imaginations as one would, and the like vinum 
Dsemonum, (as a Father calleth poetry,) but it would leave the 
minds of a number of men poor shrunken things, full of melan- 
choly and indisposition, and unpleasing to themselves ? " — 
(Lord Bacon, quoted in The Friend, vol. i., p. 9.) 

8. That, old gentlemen, is your duty.] — -It was a favorite 
theory of Goethe, that the power of calling up the most vivid 
emotions was in no respect impaired by age, whilst the power 
of portraying them was greatly improved by experience. 

" To carry on the feelings of childhood into the powers of 



220 



NOTES. 



manhood, to combine the child's sense of wonder and novelty 
with the appearances which every day, for perhaps forty years, 
had rendered familiar, — ■ 

Both sun and moon, and stars throughout the year, 
And man and woman, — 

this is the character and privilege of genius, and one of the 
marks which distinguish genius from talents." — (Coleridge 7 s 
Biog. Lit.) 

9. Use the greater and the lesser light of heaven.'] — "And 
God made two great lights ; the greater light to rule the day, 
and the lesser light to rule the night ) he made the 'stars also." 
— (Gen. i. 17.) 

" Und Gott machte zwey grosse Lichter: ein grosses Licht, 
Das den Tag regiere, und ein kleines Licht, das die Nacht 
regiere ; dazu auch Sterne." — (Luther's Translation.) 

10. Prologue in Heaven.] — The idea of this prologue is 
taken from the Book of Job, Chapters 1st and 2d. " It is wor- 
thy of remark," says Dr. Schubart, " that in the guise in which 
the poet introduces his Mephistopheles, a great difference is to 
be seen between his mode of treating the principle of evil, and 
that followed by Klopstock, Milton, and Lord Byron in Cain. 
It has also been a matter of course, to hold to one side only of 
the biblical tradition, which represents Satan as an angel of 
light, fallen through pride and haughtiness, endeavoring to dis- 
turb the glorious creation of the Supreme Being. Goethe, on 
the contrary, has adhered rather to the other side of the tradi- 
tion, of which the Book of Job is the groundwork, according to 
which Satan or the Devil forms one of the Lord's Host, not as 
a rebel against his will, but as a powerful tempter, authorized 
and appointed as such, &c." — (Vorlesungen.) We are also 
called upon to admire the propriety of the parts assigned to the 
Archangels in the Introductory Song. Dr. Hinrichs shows 
some anxiety to establish, that The Lord depicted by Goethe is 
the Lord of Christianity. On this subject he has the following 



NOTES. 



221 



note : — " That the Lord in. this poem is the Christian God, and 
therefore the Divine Spirit, Cornelius also signifies in the 
title-page of his Illustrations of Faust, where the Lord, in the 
middle of an unequal square, begirt by a half circle of angels, 
bears the triple crown upon his head, and the terrestrial globe 
in his left hand ; whilst in Retzsch's Illustrations of Faust, the 
Lord without the triple crown and the cross does not express 
the Christian God, and for that reason the conception is not 
embraced by it." — {Vorlesungen, p. 36.) 

Mr. Heraud, the writer of the able article in Fraser's Maga 
zine, quoted post, p. 203, says that Der Herr means the Second 
Person of the Trinity. It would be difficult to reconcile this 
notion with the supposed analogy to the Book of Job. 

11. The sun chimes in, as ever, with the emulous music of his 
brother spheres .] — 

" Such music (as 'tis said) 
Before was never made, 
But when of old the sons of morning sung, 
"While the Creator great 
His constellations set, 

And the well-balanced world on hinges hung, 

And cast the dark foundations deep, 

And bid the weltering waves their oozy channel keep. 

Ring out, ye crystal Spheres, 

Once bless our human ears, 

(If ye have power to touch our senses so,) 

And let your silver chime 

Move in melodious time 

And let the base of Heaven's deep organ blow ; 
And with your nine-fold harmony 

Make up full consort to th' angelic symphony — {Milton.) 
Herder, in his comparison of Klopstock and Milton, has 
said : — " A single ode of Klopstock outweighs the whole lyric 
literature of Britain." I know nothing of Klopstock's that 
would outweigh this single Hymn on the Nativity. 

12. But thy messengers, Lord, respect the mild going of thy 
day.]—- "Canst thou send lightnings, that they may go, and 



222 



NOTES. 



say unto them, Here we are ? " — (Job xxxviii. 35.) " And of 
the angels he saith, "Who maketh his angel spirits and his 
ministers a flame of fire." — (St. Paul, Heb. i. 7.) 

" The sightless couriers of the air" — 

(Macbeth, Act 1, Scene 7.) 

" The day is placid in its going, 
To a lingering sweetness bound, 
Like a river in its flowing." — ( Wordsworth.) 

13. A good man in his dark strivings, &c] — Drang in this 
passage is untranslatable, though the meaning is clear. In 
rendering it as above, I had the striving of jarring impulses 
(Coleridge's Aids) in my mind. The same exalted confidence 
in human nature is expressed in another passage of G-oethe's 
works : — 

" "Wenn einen Menschen die Natur erhoben, 
1st es kein Wunder, wenn ihm viel gelingt ; 
Mann muss in ihm die Macht des Schopfers loben 
Der schwachem Thon zu solcher Ehre bringt : 
Doch wenn ein Mann von alien Lebensproben 
Die sauerste besteht, sich selbst bezwingt ; 
Dann kann man ihn mit Freude Andern zeigen, 
Und sagen : Das ist es, das ist sein eigen " — 

(Geheimnisse.) 

14. The scoffer is the least offensive to me.] — This does not 
convey the character of Mephistopheles, nor is there any Eng- 
lish word that wduld. The meaning must be : I prefer a 
malicious, roguish devil, who laughs or scoffs at my works, to 
one who openly defies. 

15. The creative essence, &c] — It is quite impossible to 
translate this passage, and I have never seen a satisfactory 
explanation of it. Das Werdende is, literally, The Becoming, 
but werden is rather the Greek yivouai, than the English to 
lecome. The Greek word eyeyrro (says Mr. Coleridge) unites 
in itself the two senses of began to exist, and was made to exist : 



NOTES. 



223 



it exemplifies the force of the middle voice, in distinction from 
the verb reflex. — (Aids to Reflection, 2d edit. p. 18.) 

One friend, whom I consulted about this passage, sent me 
the following version: — " Creation's energy — ever active and 
alive — encircle you with the joyous bounds of love — and that 
which flits before you, a fluent and changeful phantom, do ye 
fix by the power of enduring thought ! " 

Mr. Carlyle interpreted it thus: — " There is, clearly, no 
translating of these lines, especially on the spur of the moment ; 
yet it seems to me that the meaning of them is pretty distinct. 
The Lord has just remarked, that man (poor fellow) needs a 
devil, as travelling companion, to spur him on by means of 
Denial ; whereupon, turning round (to the angels and other 
perfect characters) he adds, ' But )^e, the genuine sons of 
Heaven, joy ye in the living fulness of the beautiful, (not of the 
logical, practical, contradictory, wherein man toils imprisoned 5) 
let Being (or Existence) which is everywhere a glorious birth, 
into higher Being, as it forever-. works and lives, encircle you 
with the soft ties of love ; and whatsoever wavers in the doubt- 
ful empire of appearance,' (as all earthly things do,) 1 that do 
ye, by enduring thought, make firm.' Thus would Das Wer- 
dende, the thing that is a being, (is o-being,) mean no less than 
the universe (the visible universe) itself; and I paraphrase it 
by 1 Existence, which is everywhere a birth, into higher Ex- 
istence,' (or in some such way,) and make a comfortable enough 
kind of sense out of that quatrain. " # 

" A trifle more acquaintance with theology and German 
philosophy (says Mr. Heraud) would have saved a deal of the 
trouble thus taken 5 nor would some attention to the character 
of the speaker and the nature of the occasion have been quite 
useless. The speaker is the second person in the Trinity, and 
the occasion is the' breaking up of the sacred assembly, and 
the words, which he is made to utter, are intended for the Di- 
vine benediction at parting, in which he formally leaves them, 
to comfort them for his absence, according to the Scripture rule 
of proceeding, the loving influences of the Holy Spirit. The 
desire to be familiar in this dialogue — to make it dramatic 

* The passage in the original consists of four lines. 



224 



NOTES. 



rather than sacred — led Goethe to avoid religious terms of 
expression : and therefore he preferred the phrase, 1 the becom- 
ing, that ever operates and lives/ to the ' fellowship or blessing 
of the Holy Ghost/ and similar modes of address, which are 
consecrated to the service of public worship. 1 The becoming ' 
(Das Werdende) is of course that which becomes, — i. e., that 
which continually passes from one state to another, whose 
essence it is to do so. This is, undoubtedly, the office of the 
third person in the Trinity. The Lord, therefore, leaves and 
dismisses the angelic assembly with a benediction, recommend- 
ing them to that divine influence which proceeds from the 
Father to the Son, and from both in an eternal procession, an 
operative and living principle, to whatsoever works and lives. 
This spirit he desires to remain with them, and to encompass 
them with the gentle enclosures of love." — (Fraserh Magazine 
for May, 1832.) 

Should any one think I am bestowing too much space on a 
single passage, I would beg leave to remind him that the pas- 
sage is a very singular one, and that books have ere now been 
written to fix the meaning of a phrase. The most eminent 
men in Italy joined in the controversy as to the freddo e caldo 
polo of Monti. 

16. I like to see the Ancient One occasionally.'] — Shelley trans- 
lates den Alten, The Old Fellow. But the term may allude 
merely to " The Ancient of Days," and is not necessarily a 
disrespectful one. A correspondent proposes The Old Gentle- 
man. I am also told that der Alte is a slang expression for 
the father. 

In allusion to Mephistopheles' liking to see the Lord occa- 
sionally, Dr. Hinrichs observes : — " A fallen angel, as Shak- 
speare himself says, is still an angel, who likes to see the Lord 
occasionally, and avoids breaking with him, wherefore we find 
Mephistopheles in heaven amongst the host." — (p. 37.) 

The following passage occurs in Falk : — "Yet even the 
clever Madame de Stael was greatly scandalized that I (Goethe) 
kept the devil in such good-humor. In the presence of God the 
Father, she insisted upon it, he ought to be more grim and 
spiteful. "What will she say, if she sees him promoted a step 
higher, — nay, perhaps, meets him in heaven? " 



NOTES. 



225 



17. First Scene in Faustfs Study.'] — The opening scene in 
the Study is the only part in which the Faustus of Marlow bears 
any similarity to the Faust of Goethe. I give it, with the cho- 
rus, in which an outline of the traditional story is sketched : — 

ENTER CHORUS. 

Not marching in the fields of Tharsimen, 

Where Mars did mate the warlike Carthagen j 

Nor sporting in the dalliance of love, 

In courts of kings, where state is overturned ; 

Nor in the pomp of proud, audacious deeds, 

Intends our muse to vaunt his heavenly verse j 

Only this, gentles, we must now perform, 

The form of Faustus' fortunes, good or bad : 

And now to patient judgments we appeal, 

And speak for Faustus in his infancy : 

Now is he born of parents base of stock, 

In Germany, within a town called Rhodes ; 

At riper years to Wittenburg he went , 

So much he profits in divinity, 

That shortly he was graced with Doctor's name, 

Excelling all, and sweetly can dispute 

In th' heavenly matters of theology : 

Till, swoln with cunning and a self-conceit, 

His waxen wings did mount above his reach ; 

And melting heavens conspired his overthrow ; 

For falling to a devilish exercise, 

And glutted now with learning's golden gifts, 

He surfeits on the cursed necromancy. 

Nothing so sweet as magic is to him, 

"Which he prefers before his chiefest bliss, 

Whereas his kinsman chiefly brought him up. 

And this the man that in his study sits. 

ACT THE FIRST. SCENE I. 

Faustus in his study. 
Faust. Settle thy studies, Faustus, and begin, 
To sound the depth of that thou wilt profess ; 
Having commenced, be a divine in show, 



NOTES. 



Yet level at the end of every art, 

And live and die in Aristotle's works. 

Sweet analytics, 't is thou hast ravished rne. 

Bene disserere est fines logicis. 

Is, to dispute well, logic's chiefest end? 

Affords this art no greater miracle ? 

Then read no more ; thou hast attained that end. 

A greater subject fitteth Faustus' wit : 

Bid economy farewell : and Galen come. 

Be a physician, Faustus ; heap up gold, 

And be eternized for some wondrous cure ) 

Summum bonum medicinse sanitas j 

The end of physic is oar bodies' health. 

Why, Faustus, hast thou not attained that end ? 

Are not thy bills hung up as monuments, 

Whereby whole cities have escaped the plague, 

And thousand desperate maladies been cured? 

Yet thou art still but Faustus and a man. 

Could' st thou make men to live eternally, 

Or, being dead, raise them to life again, 

Then this profession were to be esteemed. 

Physic, farewell! Where is Justinian? 

Si una eademque res legatur duobus, 

Alter rem, alter valorem rei, &c. 

A petty case of paltry legacies. 

Exhereditari filium non potest pater nisi, &c. 

Such is the subject of the institute, 

And universal body of the law. 

This study fits a mercenary drudge, 

Who aims at nothing but external trash, 

Too servile and illiberal for me. 

When all is done, divinity is best. 

Jerome's Bible, Faustus : view it well. 
Stipendium peccati mors est : ha ! stipendium, &c. 
The reward of sin is death : that 's hard. 
Si peccasse negamus, fallimur, et nulla est in nobis 
Veritas : 

If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and there 
is no truth in us. 



NOTES. 



227 



"Why then belike we must sin, 

And so consequently die. 

Ay, we must die an everlasting death. 

What doctrine call you this ? Che sera, sera : 

What will be, shall be ; divinity, adieu ! 

These metaphysics of magicians, 

And necromantic books are heavenly ! 

Lines, circles, letters, characters : 

Ay, these are those that Faustus most desires. 

Oh ! what a world of profit and delight, 

Of power, of honor, and omnipotence, 

Is promised to the studious artisan ! 

All things that move between the quiet poles 

Shall be at my command. Emperors and kings 

Are but obeyed in their several provinces 

But his dominion that exceeds in this, 

Stretches as far as doth the mind of man : 

A sound magician is a demigod. 

Here tire my brains to get a deity. {Enter Wagner.) 

(Marlow's Works, vol. ii.) 

The commencement of Lord Byron's Manfred, if nothing 
more, is clearly traceable to Faust, either Marlow's or Goethe's. 
His own and Goethe's opinions on this matter may be collected 
from the following extracts, which form part of a note to the 
last edition of Byron's Works, vol. ii. p. 71. 

In June, 1820, Lord Byron thus writes to Mr. Murray : — 
" Enclosed is something will interest you ; to wit, the opinion 
of the greatest man in Germany, perhaps in Europe, upon one 
of the great men of your advertisements, (all famous hands, as 
Jacob Tonson used to say of his ragamuffins,) in short, a 
critique of Goethe's upon Manfred. There is the original, an 
English translation, and an Italian one; — keep them all in 
your archives, for the opinions of such a man as Goethe, 
whether favorable or not, are always interesting, and this more 
so, as favorable. His Faust I never read, for I don't know 
German ; but Matthew Monk Lewis, in 1816, at Coligny, trans- 
lated most of it to me viva voce, and I was naturally much 
struck with it ; but it was the Steinbach, and the Jungfrau, 

15 



228 



NOTES. 



and something else, much more than Faustus, that made me 
write Manfred. The first scene, however, and that of Faustus, 
are very similar." 

The following is a part of the extract from Goethe's Kunst 
und Alterthum, which the above letter enclosed : — 

" Byron's tragedy, Manfred, was to me a wonderful phe- 
nomenon, and one that closely touched me* This singularly 
intellectual poet has taken my Faustus to himself, and extracted 
from it the strongest nourishment for his hypochondriac humor. 
He has made use of the impelling principles in his own way, 
for his own purposes, so that no one of them remains the same j 
and it is particularly on this account, that I cannot enough 
admire his genius. The whole is, in this way, so completely 
formed anew, that it would be an interesting task for the critic 
-to point out, not only the alterations he has made, but their 
degree of resemblance with, or dissimilarity to, the original ; in 
the course of which I cannot deny that the gloomy heat of an 
unbounded and exuberant despair becomes at last oppressive to 
us. Yet is the dissatisfaction we feel always connected with 
esteem and admiration." 

Lord Jeffrey, in the Edinburgh Review, thus distinguishes 
Marlow's hero from Manfred : — 

" Faustus is a vulgar sorcerer, tempted to sell his soul to the 
devil for the ordinary price of sensual pleasure, and earthly 
power and glory ; and who shrinks and shudders in agony 
when the forfeit comes to be exacted. The style, too, of Mar- 
low, though elegant and scholarlike, is weak and childish, 
compared with the depth and force of much of Lord Byron ; 
and the disgusting buffoonery of low farce, of which the piece 
is principally made up, place it more in contrast, than in any 
terms of comparison, with that of his noble successor. In the 
tone and pitch of the composition, as well as in the character 
of the diction in the more solemn parts, Manfred reminds us 
more of the Prometheus of iEschylus than of any more modern 
performance." 

The following extracts from Captain Medwin's Conversations 
may also be placed here with propriety : — 

* There is a translation of cne of Manfred's soliloquies by Goethe, in the 
last complete edition of his Works, vol. iii. p. 207. 



NOTES. 



229 



" The Germans/' said Byron, " and I believe Goethe himself, 
consider that I have taken great liberties with ' Faust.' All I 
know of that drama is from a sorry French translation, from 
an occasional reading or two into English of parts of it by 
Monk Lewis, when at Diodata, and from the Hartz-mountain 
scene, that Shelley versified from, the other day. Nothing I 
envy him so much, as to be able to read that astonishing pro- 
duction in the original. As to originality, Goethe has too 
much sense to pretend that he is not under obligations to 
authors, ancient and modern j who is not ? You tell me the 
plot is almost entirely Calderon's. The Fete, the Scholar, the 
argument about the Logos, the selling himself to the fiend, and 
afterwards denying his power ; his disguise of the plumed 
cavalier, the enchanted mirror, are all from Cyprian. That 
magico prodigioso must be worth reading, and nobody seems to 
know anything about it but you and Shelley. # Then the vision 
is not unlike that of Marlow's, in his < Faustus.' The bed- 
scene is from ' Cymbeline j' the song or serenade, a translation 
of Ophelia's, in ' Hamlet ;' and, more than all, the prologue is 
from Job, which is the first drama in the world, and perhaps 
the oldest poem. I had an idea of writing a ' Job,' but I found 
it too sublime. There is no poetry to be compared with it." 

u I told him that Japhet's soliloquy in ' Heaven and Earth,' 
and address to the Mountains of Caucasus, strongly resembled 
Faust's. 

"I shall have commentators enough, by-and-by," said he, 
11 to dissect my thoughts, and find owners for them." — (JSled- 
win's Conversations of Lord Byron, pp. 141, 142.) 

Again : " I have a great curiosity about everything relating 
to Goethe, and please myself with thinking there is some anal- 
ogy between our characters and writings. So much interest 
do I take in him, that I offered to give £100 to any person who 
would translate his i Memoirs,' for my own reading. Shelley 

* The trifling analogy that really does exist between the works is men- 
tioned in almost all the Commentaries. As I hold it to be quite impossible 
for Shelley to have said that Goethe's plot is almost entirely Calderon's, 
Captain Medwin had probably been enlarging to Byron on what Shelley had 
incidentally mentioned as coincidences. To set the question at rest, I hare 
subjoined an abstract of Calderon's play in the Appendix, No. 2. 



230 



NOTES. 



has sometimes explained part of them to me. He seems to be 
very superstitious, and is a believer in astrology, — or rather 
was, for he was very young when he wrote the first part of his 
life. I would give the world to read ' Faust,' in the original. 
I have been urging Shelley to translate it, but he said that the 
translator of ' Wallenstein ' was the only person living who could 
venture to attempt it ; that he had written to Coleridge, but in 
vain. For a man to translate it, he must think as he does." 
" How do you explain," said I, " the first line, 

1 The sun thunders through the sky ? ' " 

u He speaks of the music of the spheres in Heaven," said 
he, "where, as in Job, the first scene is laid." — (Medroin's 
Conversations, p. 267.) 

I need hardly say, that Goethe was never guilty of such a 
piece of bombast as that which Captain Medwin has fixed upon 
him. 

Tieck 7 towards the end of his masterly Introduction to Lenz's 
"Works, discountenances the notion that either Byron or Scott 
was under any literary obligations to Goethe. This notion, as 
regards Scott, is in part supported by reference to individual 
characters of passages in his works, (as Finella copied from 
Mignon. or the interview between Leicester and Amy, at Curn- 
nor, imitated from Egmont,) but principally by supposing that 
the translation of Gotz von Berlichingen first inspired him with 
a taste for that style of writing in which he afterwards so pre- 
eminently distinguished himself. # Unluckily for this theory, 
it is now well known that he had this taste already jf and, even 
without any direct evidence upon the point, it seems more 
probable that the taste originated the translation, than the trans- 
lation the taste. Scott says, that the rhythm and irregular 
versification of The Lay of the Last Minstrel was imitated from 
Christabel ; but were not these peculiarities of Christabel imi- 
tated from Faust ? 

*Mr, Carlyle (Specimens of German Romance, vol. iv. p. 6) starts this 
supposition. 

fSee the annotated edition of the Waverley Novels, vol. i., General 
Preface. 



NOTES. 



231 



"I was once (says Mr. Coleridge) pressed, — many years 
ago, — to translate the Faust ; and I so far entertained the 
proposal, as to read the work through with great attention, and 
to revive in my mind my own former plan of Michael Scott. 
But then I considered with myself whether the time taken up 
in executing the translation might not more worthily be devoted 
to the composition of a work which, even if parallel in some 
points to the Faust, should be truly original in motive and exe- 
cution, and therefore more interesting and valuable than any 
version which I could make ; — and, secondly, I debated with 
myself whether it became my moral character to render into 
English — and so far, certainly, lend my countenance to lan- 
guage — much of which I thought vulgar, licentious, and blas- 
phemous. I need not tell you that I never put pen to paper as 
a translator of Faust." — -(Coleridge's Table Talk, vol. ii. pp. 
117,118.) 

18. This it is that almost burns up the heart within me.] — 
" Abel, my brother, I would lament for thee, but that the spirit 
within me is withered and burnt up with extreme agony." — 
( The Wanderings of Cain, a Fragment, by S. T. Coleridge.) 

19. For this very reason is all joy torn from me.] — "I com- 
muned with mine own heart, saying, Lo, I am come to great 
estate, and have gotten more wisdom than all they that have 
been before me in Jerusalem : yea, my heart hath great expe- 
rience of wisdom and knowledge. 

" And I gave my heart to know wisdom, and to know mad 
ness and folly ; I perceived that this also is vexation of spirit. 
For in much wisdom is much grief; and he that increaseth 
knowledge, increaseth sorrow." — (Eccl. c. i.) 

20. I have therefore devoted myself to magic.] — Goethe tells 
us, in his Memoirs, that whilst confined by ill-health, he and 
Miss von Klettenberg read through several books on alchymy ; 
e. g. Welling's Opus Mago-Caballisticum, Theophrastus Para- 
celsus, Basilius Valentinus, Helmont, Starkey, and the Aurea 
Catena Homeri. # The study of these writers subsequently 

* Doring (Life of Goethe, p. 72) mentions the circumstance 3 and connects 
it with Faust. 



232 



NOTES. 



induced Goethe to put up a small chymical apparatus, of which 
he says: " Now were certain ingredients of the Macrocosmus 
and Mierocosmus dealt with after a strange fashion." In his 
Farbenlehre, also, he enters upon an animated defence of natural 
magic. It is clear, from many passages in his Memoirs, that 
the reflections on the insufficiency of knowledge which he has 
here put into the mouth of Faust, were his own at one period, 
though he subsequently attained to a better estimate of life. 
For instance : — " The remarkable puppet-show fable of Faust 
found many an answering echo in my breast. I too had 
ranged through the whole round of knowledge, and was early 
enough led to see its vanity." 

21. Nostradamus, .] — The following account of this worthy 
is given in the Conversations-Lexicon: — u Nostradamus, 
properly Michel Notre Dame, born in 1503, at St. Remy in 
Provence, of a family of Jewish origin, studied medicine, ap- 
plied himself somewhat to quackery, and fell at last into the 
favorite malady of his age, astrology. The prophecies which, 
from his seclusion at Salon, he made known in rhymed quat- 
rains under the title of ' Centuries of the World,' excited great 
notice by their style and their obscurity. Henry the Second, 
King of France, sent for the author and rewarded him royally. 
When, subsequently, this monarch was wounded in a tourna- 
ment, and lost his life, men believed that the prophecy of this 
event was to be found in the 35th quatrain of the First Cen- 
tury : — 

* Le lion jeune le vieux surmontera, 
En camps bellique par singulier duel, 
Dans cage d'or les yeux lui crevera, 
Deux plaies une, puis mourir mort cruelle.' 

The most distinguished persons of his time visited him at 
Salon. Charles the Ninth appointed him his physician. There 
were not wanting people, however, who made light of his 
prophecies. So late as 1781, they were prohibited by the Papal 
Court, because the downfall of Papacy was announced in them. 
He died at Salon in 1565." — (Conversations-Lexicon, tit. Nos- 
tradamus.) 



NOTES. 



233 



22. Macrocosm, and Spirit of the Earth or Microcosm.'] — Dr. 
Hinrichs says : — " The Macrocosm signifies Nature, as such, 
and is opposed to Microcosm, as man." — (p. 59.) But I 
incline to think Macrocosm means the Universe, and the Spirit 
of Earth, the Earth generally. Thus Falk, in accounting for 
Faust's weakness in the presence of the latter, says, " The 
mighty and multiform universality of the earth itself — that 
focus of all phenomena, which at the same time contains within 
itself, sea, mountain, storm, earthquake, tiger, lion, lamb, 
Homer, Phidias, Raphael, Newton, Mozart, and Apelles — 
whom, appear when and where it might, would it not strike 
with trembling, fear, and awe?-' — (p. 247.) The Ganzen (I 
am here adopting the gloss of a friend) is the Omneity of the 
metaphysicians, and Eins in dem Andern wirkt und lebt, is The 
Immanence of All in each of Plato. 

But the best commentary on the whole of the passage in 
which these words occur, is to be found in the first chapter of 
Herder's Ideen, who (according to Falk) received many of his 
notions from Goethe. The analogy of the following passage is 
sufficiently marked : — " When, therefore, I open the great book 
of Heaven, and see before me this measureless palace, which 
alone, and everywhere, the Godhead only has power to fill, I 
conclude, as undistractedly as I can, from the whole to the 
particular, from the particular to the whole." — (Ideen,}). i. 
c. 10 

The Spirits' chant probably suggested Shelley's — 

" Nature's vast frame — the web of human things, 
Birth and the grave ! " 

In Dodsley's Collection of Old Plays (vol. v.) is "A Moral 
Mask," entitled " Microcosm," by Thomas Nabbs, in which 
Nature, Earth, Fire, Water, &c. &c, figure as dramatis per- 
sonam. 

" According to Paracelsus," says Mr. Heraud, " the macro- 
cosm is the great world, and man is the microcosm, or a little 
world — a kind of epitome of the great. Oswald Crollius, 
1 physician to the most illustrious Prince Christian Anhaltin,' 
in his admonitory preface to Paracelsus' Three Books of Phi- 



I 



234 



NOTES. 



losophy, delivers himself right learnedly on both worlds, macros 
and micros." 

23. Up, acolyte !] — I have been called on for an author- 
ity for using this word in the above sense : — 

" You are doubtless an acolyte in the noble and joyous 
science of minstrelsy and music/'' — (Anne of Geierstein, vol. 
ii. p. 238.) 

24. All ringing harmoniously through the AIL] — 

" And what if all of animated nature 
Be but organic harps diversely framed, 
That tremble into thought, as o'er them sweeps, 
Plastic and vast, one intellectual breeze, 
At once the Soul of each, and God of all." 

(Coleridge.) 

25. A cold shuddering, cfc] — 

11 Fear came upon me, and trembling, which made all my 
bones to shake. 

" Then a spirit passed before my face : the hair of my flesh 
stood up." — (The Book of Job, ch. iv.) 

26. Art thou he ?] — 

" Reluctant mortal, 
Is this the 3Iagian who would so pervade 
The world invisible, and make himself 
Almost our equal? " — (JIanfred, Act 3, Sc. 4.) 

27. Enter Wagner.} — The traditional Faust had a disciple 
or pupil named Wagner or Wagenar, who figures in all the 
dramas or histories founded on the fable. He is thus described 
in Cayet's Translation of Widman : — " Le Docteur Fauste avoit 
un jeune serviteur qu'il avoit eleve quand il etudioit a Witten- 
berg, que vit toutes les illusions de son maitre Fauste, toutes 
ses magies, et tout son art diabolique. II etoit un mauvais 
garcon, coureur et debauche du commencement qu'il vint de- 
meurer a Wittenberg*: il mendoit, et personne ne le vouloit 
prendre a cause de sa mauvaise nature j le garcon se nommoit 
Christofle Wagner, et fut des-lors serviteur du Dr. Fauste ; il 



NOTES. 



235 



se tint tres bien avec mi, en sorte que le Dr. Fauste l'appeloit 
son fils j il alloit on il vouloit, quoiqu'il allat tout boitant et de 
travers." A book, entitled " Christoph. Wagner's Magic Arts 
and Life of Dr. Faust/' was published at Berlin, in 1714, assum- 
ing to be by the veritable attendant of the philosopher. 

Dr. Hinrichs has a strange theory about this character. In 
his opinion, Faust represents Philosophy, and Wagner, Empiri- 
cism ; Philosophy being Germany, and Empiricism all the rest 
of the world. 

It is also worthy of remark that one of Goethe's early friends 
was called Wagner. He signalized himself by stealing from 
Faust (which was communicated to him in confidence previ- 
ously to publication) the tragic portion relating to Margaret, 
and making it the subject of a tragedy, called the Infanticide. 
Goethe expresses great indignation at the treachery. — {Me- 
moirs, B. 14.) 

28. But it is elocution , <$>c] — Wagner, a man of learning, 
was probably alluding to the well-known aphorism of Demos- 
thenes. Vortrag comes near the Greek Yuoxqioiq, which 
includes not action merely, but all that relates to the delivery 
of a speech. 

29. In which ye crisp the shreds of humanity.] — The phrase 
Jcnitzel kr'duseln is one about which great variety of opinion 
exists, but the two highest authorities substantially agree : — 

u Vos discours qui brillent d'un si faux eclat, dans lequel 
vous etalez les ornemens les plus factices de l'esprit humain, 
&c. Kr'duseln, rendre crepu, friser. Schnitzel, ce sont des de- 
coupures de papier. # En les tordant en difierens sens on peut 
en faire des ornemens, meme des fleurs, mais ces fleurs n'ont 
aucune fraicheur. Le poete les compare done avec les orne- 
mens d'une rhethorique affectee. L T ne des beautes de ce pas- 
sage e'est la singularity de la rime kr'duseln et sduseln, laquelle 
a son tour aura amene les expressions un peu bizarres du 
second vers." — (If. de Schlegel — private letter.) 

11 Your fine speeches, in which you ruffle up man's poorest 

* The word Papier- Schnitzel is used in this sense in Wilhelm Meister. 
See Goethe's Works, Stuttgart and Tubingen edition, vol. xviii. p. 86. 



236 



NOTES. 



shreds, (in which yon repeat the most miserable trifles in can- 
dyed language,) are comfortless, &c. — (Dr. Jacob Grimm — 
private letter.) The analogy between this passage and the si 
vis me fiere ) fyc. } of Horace, will suggest itself to every one. 

30. My friend, the past ages are to us a book with seven seals, 
fyc] — This speech also is one of considerable difficulty. Good 
critics are not wanting who contend that der Herren eigner Geist 
means the spirit of certain great persons or lords of the earth 
exercising a wide-spread influence on their times, and that eitie 
Haupt-und Staats-Action means a grand political intrigue. But 
I have it on indisputable authority, that Haupt-und Staats-Ac- 
tion was the name given to a description of drama formerly 
well-known in Germany. Dr. Grimm's note upon this passage 
is : " Ein Kehricht-Fass, &c, a dust-vat (dirt-basket) and a 
lumber-room, and at best a historico-pragmatical play, with 
excellent moral maxims, as they are lit for a puppet-show." 
M. de Schlegel says : " Haupt-und Staats-Action : C'est le titre 
qu'on affichait pour les drames destines aux marionnettes, 
lorsqu'ils traitaient des sujets heroiques et historiques." 

31. Who dares call the child by its true name ?] — " II faut 
avoir une pensee de derriere et juger de tout par la, en parlant 
cependant comme le peuple." — (Pascal.) 

" Remark the use which Shakspeare always makes of his 
bold villains, as vehicles for expressing opinions and conjectures 
of a nature too hazardous for a wise man to put forth discreetly 
as his own, or from any sustained character." — (Coleridge's 
Table Talk.) 

32. Something foreign, and more foreign, is ever clinging to the 
noblest conception, <§-c] — 

" But must needs confess 

That 'tis a thing impossible to frame 
Conceptions equal to the soul's desires ; 
And the most difficult of tasks to keep 
Heights which the soul is competent to gain. 
— Man is of dust ; ethereal hopes are his, 
"Which, when they should sustain themselves aloft, 
Want due consistence, like a pillar of smoke, 



NOTES. 



237 



That with majestic energy from earth 
Rises, but, having reached the thinner air, 
Melts, and dissolves, and is no longer seen." 

( Wordsworth j Excursion.} 

33. The glorious feelings which gave us life, fyc] — No one 
who has ever indulged in day-dreaming, or felt the beau-ideal 
of fancy crumble away before the ugly real of life — no one, 
in short, who is not a mere irockne Schleicher like Wagner, will 
require any illustration of this paragraph. The same senti- 
ment, very beautifully expressed, will be found in Schiller's 
Poem, Die Ideale, elegantly translated by Lord F. Egerton. 
Goethe, also, observes in his Memoirs: u Ordinarily, when our 
soul-concert is more spiritually attuned, the harsh grating tones 
of the world strike in, in the most overpowering and boisterous 
manner, and the contrast which is ever secretly going on, sud- 
denly coming forth, only influences the more sensibly on that 
account." He highly commends Wieland for his skill in repre- 
senting this contrast. 

34. Thou, hollow skull, what meanest thou by that grin?] — 

" Death grins ! Go ponder o'er the skeleton ! " — (Byron.) 

35. To possess what thou hast inherited from thy sires, enjoy it.] 

— The inscription on an old tomb-stone may serve to illustrate 
the meaning of this passage : — 

" What I have, I have j what I spent, I had j what I left, I 
lost." 

36. As when the moonlight breathes.] — 

" How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon that bank." 

(Merchant of Venice.) 

This line, and Lear's — 

" Pray you, undo this button — thank you, Sir ;" 
have been cited by Mr. Leigh Hunt as alone sufficient to 
place Shakspeare in the front rank of poetry. 

37. The gorgeousness of the many artfully -wrought images, §c] 

— I remember seeing a beautiful silver goblet of the kind — 
ii e., one contrived for the trial of a guest's powers of breath in 



238 



NOTES. 



drinking — at Berne in Switzerland, for sale, alas ! second-hand, 
in an old shop. It was so contrived, that the wine flowed down 
a channel into the main reservoir, and in its course turned a 
mill, on the sweeps of which the drinker's eye would be direct- 
ed, if in their natural position, during the pull (zug.) " — (Note 
by a f riend.) I need to do no more than name the Blessed Bear 
of Bradwardine. 

38. The full-toned bell sounded so fraught with mystic meaning, .] 
— " The question (as to the concordat) was argued one even- 
ing, at great length, on the terrace of the garden at Bonaparte's 
favorite villa of Malmaison. The Chief Consul avowed him- 
self to be no believer in Christianity. { But religion,' said he, 
' is a principle which cannot be eradicated from the heart of 
man.' 1 "Who made all that ? ' said Napoleon, looking up to the 
heaven, which was clear and starry. * But last Sunday even- 
ing,' he continued, ' I was walking here alone, when the church- 
bells of the village of Ruel rung at sunset. I was strangely moved, 
so vividly did the image of early days come back with that sound. 
If it be thus with me, what must it be with others ? ' 1 In rees- 
tablishing the" church,' he added, <I consult the wishes of the 
great majority of my people.'" — (Life of Napoleon — Family 
Library j vol. i. p. 248.) 

39. A longing inconceivably sweet, $-c] — 

" While yet a boy I sought for ghosts, and sped 
Through many a listening chamber, cave and ruin, 
And star-lit wood, with fearful steps pursuing 
Hopes of high talk with the departed dead." — 

(Shelley — Hymn to Intellectual Beauty.) 

Compare the splendid passage in "Wordsworth's Tintern Ab- 
bey, beginning ■ — 

"Though, changed, no doubt, from what I was when first 
I came amongst these hills " — 

40. Recollection now holds me back.] — " There is one exquis- 
ite passage in ancient poetry which presents us with a similar 
touch of nature. If Goethe had read it, he has rather produced 
an admirable counterpart than an imitation of it. It is in 



NOTES. 



239 



Apollonius Rhodius, whose Medea, being in like manner bent 
on self-destruction, is overpowered and recalled from her pur- 
pose by a sudden rush of kindly remembrances, even while the 
chest of magic drugs is resting on her knees." — {Edinburgh 
Review, No. 125, p. 41.) 

41. He is in reviving-bliss.] — It is impossible to translate 
Werdelust. The meaning probably is, that our Saviour enjoys, 
in coming to life again, a happiness nearly equal to that of the 
Creator in creating. 

42. For you is he here !] — With you has been suggested, in 
allusion to St. Chrysostom's prayer, " There am I among you." 

43. Behind, far away, in Turkey.'] — The common people in 
Germany are wont to consider themselves as placed forward in 
the world, and speak of certain distant or outlandish countries 
as behind. 

44. The painted vessels.] — 

" The painted vessels glide." — {Pope.) 

The allusion to the war in Turkey, and the other townman's 
reply, are supposed by one of the commentators to be a sneer 
at the indifference manifested as to the war of Grecian inde- 
pendence. This ingenious writer forgot that the first part of the 
poem was written half a century ago. 

45. Saint Andrew's eve, fyc] — " There is a belief that on St. 
Andrew's eve, St. Thomas' eve, Christmas eve, and New Year's 
eve, a maiden may invite and see her future lover. A table 
must be covered for two, but without forks. Whatever the 
lover leaves behind him, on going away, must be carefully 
picked up ; he then attaches himself to her who possesses it, 
and loves her ardently. But he should never be allowed to 
come to the sight of it again, or he will think of the pain he 
endured on that night by supernatural means, and become 
aware of the charm, whereby great unhappiness is occasioned. 
A beautiful maiden in Austria once sought to see her lover 
according to the necessary forms, whereupon a shoemaker 
entered with a dagger, threw it to her, and immediately disap- 



240 



NOTES. 



peared again. She took up the dagger and locked it away in a 
chest. Soon afterwards came the shoemaker and sought her in 
marriage. Some years after their marriage, she went one Sun- 
day after vespers to her chest, to look out something which she 
wanted for her next day's work. As she opened the chest, her 
husband came to her and insisted on looking in ; she held him 
back, but he pushed her aside, looked into the chest, and saw 
his lost dagger. He instantly seizes it, and requires to know, 
in a word, how she got it, as he had lost it at a peculiar time. 
In her confusion she is unable to think of an excuse, and freely 
owns that it is the same dagger which he had left behind on 
that night when she required to see him. Upon this he grew 
furious, and exclaimed, with a fearful oath: 'Whore! then 
thou art the girl who tortured me so inhumanly that night ! ' 
And with that he struck the dagger right through her heart. 

" The like is related in various places of others. Orally, of a 
huntsman who left his hanger. During her first confinement, 
the wife sent him to her chest to fetch clean linen, forgetting 
that the charmed instrument was there, which he finds and 
kills her with it." — {Deutsche Sagen. Herausgegeben von den 
Brudern Grimm. Berlin, 1816, No. 114.) The same work (No. 
118) contains a story founded on the superstition of the magic 
mirror, (alluded to in the next line but one,) in which absent 
friends or lovers may be seen. This superstition, however, is 
not peculiar to Germany. 

46. River and rivulet, <£c] — To understand Faust's posi- 
tion in this speech, the reader must fancy a town on a river, 
like most of those upon the Rhine, with a sort of suburban vil- 
lage on the opposite bank. Falk makes this scene the ground- 
work of a commentary on the advantages of the Sabbath j a 
fair specimen of the mode in which most of the commentaries 
on Faust are eked out. 

47. There ?vas a red lion, <§-c] — Mr. T. Griffiths, of Ken- 
sington, who once delivered an extremely interesting lecture 
on Alchymical Signs at the Royal Institution, enables me to 
furnish an explanation of this passage, which has generally 
been passed- over as (what M. Sainte-Aulaire is pleased to term 
it) galimatias. 



NOTES. 



241 



There was a red lion, — This expression implies the red stone, 
red mercury, or cinnabar. 

a bold lover , — This expression alludes to the property the 
above compound possesses (according to the adepts) of de- 
vouring, swallowing, or ravishing every pure metallic nature 
or body. 

married — This simply implies the conjoining or union of 
two bodies of opposite nature ; red and white were supposed to 
be male and female. 

to the lily — This term denotes a preparation of antimony, 
called lilium minerale, or lilium Paracelsi ; the white stone, or 
perhaps albified mercury, sometimes called the "white fume," 
or the "most milk-white swanne." 

in the tepid bath, — This denotes a vessel filled with heated 
water, or a " balneum M arise," used as a very convenient 
means of elevating the body of an aludel or alembic slowly to 
a gentle heat. 

and then both, with open flame, — This means the direct and 
fierce application of fire to the aludel upon its removal from 
the water-bath, after the marriage had taken place betwixt the 
" red and the white." 

tortured — The adepts deemed their compounds sensible of 
pleasure and pain ; the heat of the open fire tortured the newly 
united bodies j these therefore endeavored to escape, or sub- 
lime, which is the sense in which the ' word tortured is to be 
taken. 

from one bridal chamber — This means the body of the aludel, 
in which they were first placed, and which had been heated to 
such a degree as to cause their sublimation. 

to another. — This signifies the glass head or capital placed 
on the body of the aludel, which received the sublime vapors. 
Many heads were put on in succession, into which the vapors 
successively passed. 

If the young queen, — This implies the supposed royal off- 
spring of the red lion and the lily, or its alliance to the noble 
metals — the sublimer products. 

with varied hues, then appeared — During the process, various 
hues appeared on the sublimated compound • according to the 
order of their appearance, the perfection or completion of the 



242 



NOTES. 



great work was judged of. Purple and ruby were most 
esteemed, for, being royal colors, they were good omens. 

in the glass — This means the glass head or capital of the 
aludel, as before noticed. 

— this was the medicine. — The term medicine was used to 
express both the elixir to heal human bodies, and that to trans- 
mute the bodies of metals into the purest gold and silver. 

The passage, divested of alchymical obscurity, would read 
thus : — 

" There was red mercury, a powerfully acting body, united 
with the tincture of antimony, at a gentle heat of the water- 
bath. Then being exposed to the heat of the open fire in an 
aludel, a sublimate filled its heads in succession, which, if it 
appeared with various hues, was the desired medicine." 

In his note to me, Mr. Griffiths adds : — " All the terms it 
contains may be found in alchymical works ; it is a very good 
specimen of mystical writing." 

48. Every height on fire.'] — 

" Cover a hundred leagues and seem 
To set the hills on fire." — ( Wordsworth.) 

" The western wave was all a-flame, 
The day was well-nigh done j 
Almost upon the western wave 

Rested the broad bright sun." — {Coleridge.) 

Many readers may be pleased with the opportunity of comparing 
the emotions produced by sunrise in Wordsworth with those 
produced by sunset in Goethe. 

" What soul was his, when, from the naked top 
Of some bold headland, he beheld the sun 
Rise up, and bathe the world in light ! He looked — 
Ocean and earth, the solid frame of earth 
And ocean's liquid mass, beneath him lay 
In gladness and deep joy. The clouds were touched, 
And in their silent faces did he read 
Unutterable love. Sound needed none, 
Nor any voice of joy 3 his spirit drank 



NOTES. 



243 



The spectacle : sensation, soul, and form 
All melted into him ; they swallowed up 
His animal being j in them did he live, 
And by them did he live ; they were his life. 
In such access of mind, in such high hour 
Of visitation from the living God, 
Thought was not j in enjoyment it expired. 
No thanks he breathed, he preferred no request , 
Rapt into still communion, that transcends 
The imperfect offices of prayer and praise, 
His mind was a thanksgiving to the Power 
That made him ; it w r as blessedness and love ! " 

(Excursion, B. I.) 

49. The silver brook flowing into golden streams.] — This may 
allude to the gradual gilding of the w T aters, as the sunbeams 
come to play upon them, or to another natural phenomenon, 
which I will explain by an anecdote. In the summer of 1831, 
it was my good fortune to pass through the beautiful valley of 
Ahrenberg, a valley which wants but a Moore to make an 
Ovoca of it. # Whilst we were changing horses, I w T alked with 
a German student to a rising ground, to get a better view of the 
scenery. The setting sun was shining in such a manner, that 
the beams massed themselves on a broad part of the stream, 
and fell transversely over a tributary brook, thus giving a rich 
golden glow to the river, and the appearance of a white silvery 
line to the rivulet. We had hardly gained the height, when my 
fellow-traveller exclaimed : — 

" Den Silberbach in goldne Strome fliessen." 

50. The day before me, and the night behind.'] — This fine ex- 
pression occurs in a very old and popular tale of witchcraft 
mentioned at some length by Yoss. Mr. Coleridge has some- 
thing like it in The Homeric Hexameter described and exemplified. 
" Strangely it bears us along in swelling and limitless bil- 
lows, 

Nothing before and nothing behind but the sky and the 
ocean." 

* It lies on the road between Elberfeldt and Cassel. 

16 



244 



NOTES. 



The Ovidian Elegiac Metre described and exemplified is a literal 
translation from Schiller. 

51. Alas ! no bodily wing, $-c] — 

" Oft when my spirit doth spread her bolder wings, 
In mind to mount up to the purer sky, 
It down is weighed with thought of earthly things, 
And clogged with burden of mortality." 

(Spenser 's Sonnets.) 

52. The realms of an exalted ancestry.} — This alludes to a 
supposed divine origin of the soul or spirit of man, or to — 
" For I am in a strait betwixt the two, having a desire to depart 
and to be with Christ, which is better." — Phil. 1. An anony- 
mous commentator quotes the following lines apropos of the 
main sentiment in this speech : — 

"Und was die Menschen meinen, 
Das ist mir einerlei, 
Mochte mich mir selbst vereinen 
Allein wir sind zu zwei ; 

"Und im lebend'gen Treiben 
Sind wir ein Hier und Dort, 
Das eine liebt zu bleiben 
Das andre mochte fort." 

53. Invoice not the well-known troop , which diffuses itself, 
streaming, through the atmosphere, fyc] — " The spirits of the 
aire will mix themselves with thunder and lightning, and so 
infest the clyme where they raise any tempest, that soudainely 
great mortality shall ensue to the inhabitants." — (Pierce Pen- 
nilesse his Supplication, 1592 : cited in Steeven's Shakspeare.) 
" The air is not so full of flies in summer, as it is at all times 
of invisible devils ; this Paracelsus stiffly maintains." — (Bur- 
ton, Anat., Part i.) 

• 

54. A line of fire follows upon his track.'] — In his w T ork on 
Colors already alluded to, Goethe gives the following explana- 
tion of this phenomenon : — " A dark object, the moment it 



ftOTES. 



245 



withdraws itself, imposes on the eye the necessity of seeing the 
same form bright. Between jest and earnest, I shall quote a 
passage from Faust which is applicable here. (Then follows 
the passage.) This had been written some time, — from poeti- 
cal intuition and in half consciousness, — when, as it was 
growing twilight, a black poodle ran by my window in the 
street, and drew a clear, shining appearance after him, — the 
undefined image of his passing form remaining in the eye. 
Such phenomena occasion the more pleasing surprise, as they 
present themselves most vividly and beautifully, precisely when 
we suffer our eyes to wander unconsciously. There is no one 
to whom such counterfeit images have not often appeared, but 
they are allowed to pass unnoticed : yet I have known persons 
who teased themselves on this account, and believed it to be a 
symptom of the diseased state of their eyes, whereupon the 
explanation which I had it in my power to give inspired them 
with the highest satisfaction. He who is instructed as to the 
real nature of it, remarks the phenomenon more frequently, be- 
cause the reflection immediately suggests itself. Schiller wished 
many a time that this theory had never been communicated 
to him, because he was everywhere catching glimpses of that 
the necessity for which was known to him." The phenomenon 
is now a recognized and familiar one. See Sir David Brewster's 
Letters on Natural Magic, p. 20. 

In a note to the following lines, in the Lay of the Last Min- 
strel, there is a strange story of a fiend appearing in the shape 
of a black dog : — 

" For he was speechless, ghastly, wan, 
Like him of whom the story ran, 
He spoke the spectre-hound in Man." — (Canto 6.) 

According to the tradition, Faust was constantly attended by 
an evil spirit in the shape of a black dog. This four-footed 
follower has a place in most of the old pictures, those in Auer- 
bach's cellar not excepted. 

55. Even a wise man may become attached to a dog when he 
is well brought up.] — " A bonnie terrier that, sir; and a fell 
chield at the vermin, I warrant him — that is, if he 's been 



246 



NOTES. 



weel entered, for it a' lies in that." " Really, sir/' said Brown. 
" his education has been somewhat neglected, and his chief 
property is being a pleasant companion." 

" Ay, sir, that 's a pity, begging your pardon, it 's a great pity 
that — beast or body, education should aye be minded." — {Guy 
Mannering.) 

56. We are accustomed to see men deride what they do not under- 
stand.] — " It has often and with truth been said, that unbelief 
is an inverted superstition, and our age suffers greatly by it. 
A noble deed is attributed to selfishness, an heroic action to 
vanity, an undeniable poetic production to a state of delirium ; 
nay, what is still stranger, everything of the highest excellence 
that comes forth, everything most worthy of remark that occurs, 
is, so long as it is barely possible, denied." — {Goethe, Farben- 
lehre.) 

u Pindar's fine remark respecting the different effects of 
music on different characters, holds equally true of genius ; as 
many as are not delighted by it are disturbed, perplexed, irri- 
tated. The beholder either recognizes it as a projected form of 
his own being, that moves before him with a glory round its 
head, or recoils from, it as a spectre." — {Coleridge' 1 s Aids to 
Reflection, p. 220.) 

57. We Jong for revelation which nowhere burns, fyc] — It is 
clear from Goethe's Memoirs, and many other parts of his 
works, that he is here describing the workings of his own mind 
in youth ; that, when his spirit was tormented by doubts, he 
constantly referred to the Bible for consolation, and found it 
there. It also appears that he occasionally struggled to pene- 
trate below T the surface in somewhat the same manner as Faust. 
{t So far as the main sense was concerned, I held by Luther's 
edition ; in particulars, I referred occasionally to Schmidt's 
verbal translations, and sought to make my little Hebrew as 
useful as I could." It is a singular fact that, next to the Bible, 
the book which Goethe was fondest of, and which confessedly 
exercised the greatest influence on his mind, was Spinosa. So 
constantly, indeed, was he studying this writer, that Herder on 
one occasion is said to have exclaimed to him, u Why, you liter- 
ally never read any Latin book but Spinosa ! " 



NOTES. 



247 



In allusion to Faust's attempt to translate the Joyoc, the 
German commentators are filled to overflowing with controver- 
sial divinity ; while the French translator, M. Sainte-Aulaire, 
omits the whole passage as an unmeaning play of words. 

In one of Lessing's plans for a drama to be founded on Faust, 
Faust was to be represented studying Aristotle {JJeber Goethe's 
Faust j fyc. 82.) In Calderon's El Magico Prodi gioso, Cyprian 
is represented studying Pliny. 

58. Salamander j Undine, Sylph, Kobold.] — I shall illustrate 
Faust's conjuration by an extract from a very singular work, 
Entretiens sur les Sciences secretes du Comte de Gabalis, by M. de 
Villars, in which Salamanders, Undines, Sylphs, and Kobolds 
(alias Gnomes) are described ; — 

u "When you shall be enrolled among the children of the 
philosophers, and your eyes fortified by the use of the holy 
elixir, you will discover that the elements are inhabited by very 
perfect creatures, of the knowledge of whom the sin of Adam 
deprived his unfortunate posterity. The immense space be- 
tween earth and sky has other inhabitants than birds and flies ; 
the ocean other guests than whales and sprats ; the earth was 
not made for moles alone, nor is the desolating flame itself a 
desert. 

" The air is full of beings of human form, proud in appear- 
ance, but docile in reality, great lovers of science, officious 
toward sages, intolerant toward fools. Their wives and daugh- 
ters are masculine Amazonian beauties " 

" ' How ! you do not mean to say that spirits marry ? ' 

" ' Be not alarmed, my son, about such trifles ; believe what 
I say to be solid and true, and the faithful epitome of cabalistic 
science, which it will only depend on yourself one day to verify 
by your own eyes. Know, then, that seas and rivers are inhab- 
ited as well as the air ; and that ascended sages have given the 
name of lindanes or Nymphs to this floating population. They 
engender few males ; women overflow. Their beauty is ex- 
treme ; the daughters of men are incomparably inferior. 

" 1 The earth is filled down to its very centre with Gnomes, a 
people of small stature, the wardens of treasures, mines, and 
precious stones. They are ingenious, friendly to man, and 



248 



NOTES. 



easy to command. They furnish the children of sages with all 
the money they want, and ask as the reward of their service 
only the honor of being commanded. Their women are small, 
very agreeable, and magnificent in their attire. 

" 1 As for the Salamanders, who inhabit the fiery region, they 
wait on the sages, but without any eagerness for the task ; 
their females are rarely to be seen.' " 

This book probably furnished Pope with machinery for his 
Rape of the Lock, suggested the plot of Idris and Zenide to 
Wieland, and gave De la Motte Fouque a basis for his delight- 
ful story of Undine. 

59. Mepkistopheles comes forward in the dress of a travelling 
scholar.] — "That Mephistopheles comes forth as a travelling 
scholar, (scholastics s,) and therefore as a philosopher, is not 
without significance. For, on seeing him, Faust knows that he 
is approached as a friend, he himself being devoted to philoso- 
phy ; and even the expression fahrender scholast expresses the 
unquiet with which Faust is filled. The wandering about 
through the world — for example, of Jordanus Bruno, &c, — 
is to be viewed with reference to internal restlessness, impelled 
by which these philosophers wandered unceasingly from place 
to place." — {Br. Hinrichs 1 JEsth. Vorl. p. 98.) Dr. Stieglitz 
{Sage, p. 64) furnishes seme curious particulars as to these 
scholastici vagantes as they were called, from which it would 
seem that they did not fill a very respectable station in society ; 
and it is no compliment to Giordano Bruno (a man of distin- 
guished merit) to be put forth as an example of the character. 

60. Fly god,] i. e., Beelzebub, whose name is partly com- 
pounded of a Hebrew word signifying fly. 

61. 1 am a part of the part which in the beginning was all.] — 
" And the earth was without form and void ; and darkness was 
upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon 
the face of the waters. 

" And God said, Let there be light : and there was light. 
" And God saw the light, that it was good : and God divided 
the light from the darkness." — {Gen. ch. i.) 



NOTES. 



249 



" Granted that day, proceeding from the original source of 
light, deserves all honor, because it invigorates, quickens, glad- 
dens — still it does not follow that darkness must be addressed 
and shunned as the evil principle, because it makes us uneasy, 
and lulls us to sleep ; we rather see in such an effect the char- 
acteristics of sensuous beings controlled by phenomena." — 
(Goethe.) 

62. That which is opposed to nothing.] — Dr. Schubart cau- 
tions us against supposing that under the term nichts a complete 
void is intended, as it means merely the original state of things 
under the reign of Chaos. 

63. From air, water, earth, $-c] — " In the air, in the water, 
in the marshes, in the sand, — genera and species multiplied, 
and I believe that they will continue to multiply in the same 
proportion with the course of discovery." — (Herder } Ideen zur 
Philosophie, fyc, b. 2, c. 4.) 

64. The Pentagram.] — The Pentagram, Pentalpha, or Dru- 
denfuss, was a pentagonal figure, like the following : — ■ 



— supposed to possess the same sort of power which used popu- 
larly to be attributed to the horseshoe amongst us. 

Those who wish for more information on this subject may 
refer to Schol. in Aristoph. Nub. 599, and Lucian's Dialogue — 
Be lapsu inter salutandum — in the Amsterdam quarto edition of 
1743, vol. i. p. 729, 730, in notis. The Pentalpha is also men- 
tioned in Hobhouse's Historical Illustrations of the Fourth 
Canto of Childe Harold, p. 334. 

In one of a series of engravings by a Dutch artist of the 
beginning of the seventeenth century, (Van Sichem, by name,) 
Faust is represented standing within two intersecting circles, 
upon two intersecting squares, conjuring Mephistopheles, who 
is just appearing in his true shape. 




250 



NOTES. 



65. A compact, a binding one, may be made with you, gentle- 
men.] — " ' These are fine promises (replied the student ;) but 
you gentlemen devils are accused of not being religious ob- 
servers of what you promise to men.' ' It is a groundless 
charge/ replied Asmodeus ; ' some of my brethren, indeed, make 
no scruple of breaking their word, but I am a slave to mine.' " 
— (The Devil upon Two Sticks, chap. 1.) 

66. Tell me something worth telling.'] — It is a matter of 
doubt whether gute M'dhr zu sagen does not mean to tell one's 
fortune. 

67. I am too old for mere play, too young to be without a 
wish.] — 

" Too old for youth, — too young at thirty-five, 

To herd with boys or hoard with good threescore, 
I wonder people should be left alive, 

But since they are, that epoch is a bore.*' — 

(Don Juan, Canto 12.) 

68. What can the world afford me? — " Thou shalt re- 
nounce / " — " Thou shalt renounce ! "] — " Our physical as well 
as social life, manners, customs, worldly wisdom, philosophy, 
religion, all exclaim to us, " That we shall renounce." — (Dich- 
tung und Wahrheit, part ii. book 17.) 

69. Since a sweet familiar tone, fyc] 

" My e} r es are dim with childish tears, 
My heart is idly stirred ; 
For the same sound is in rny ears 

Which in those days I heard." — (Wordsworth.) 

70. That highest grace of love.] — Meaning, probably, le don 
ffamoureux merci, or the last favor. 

71. And what am I to do for you in return ?] — The actual or 
traditional compact was to the following effect : — 

"Puis le D. Fauste rec^oit son sang sur une tuile, et y met des 
charbons tout chauds, et ecrit comme s'ensuit ciapres j 

" ( Jean Fauste, Docteur, reconnois de ma propre main mani- 
festement pour une chose ratifiee, et ce en vertu de cet ecrit : 



NOTES. 



251 



qu'apres que je me suis mis a speculer les elemens, et apres 
les dons qui m'ont ete distribuez et departis de lahaut : lesquels 
n'ont point trouve d' habitude dans mon entendement. Et de ce 
que je n'ai peu etre enseigne autrement des hommes, lors 
je me suis presentement adonne a un Esprit, qui s'appelle Me- 
phistophiles, qui est valet du prince infernal en Orient, par 
paction entre lui et moi, qu'il m'adresseroit et m'apprendroit, 
comme il m'etoit predestine, qui aussi reciproquement m'a 
promis de m'etre sujet en toutes choses. Partant et a l'opposite, 
je lui ai promis et lui certifie, que d'ici a vingt-quatre ans de la 
date de ces presentes, vivant jusques-la. completement, comme 
il m'enseignera en son art et science, et en ses inventions me 
maintiendra, gouvernera, conduira, et me fera tout bien, avec 
toutes choses necessaires a mon corps, a mon ame, a ma chair, 
a. mon sang, et a ma sante : que je suis et serai sien a jamais. 
Partant, je renonce a tout ce qui est pour la vie du maitre 
celeste et de tous les hommes, et que je sois en tout sien. 
Pour plus grande certitude, et plus grande confirmation, j'ai 
ecrit la presente promesse de ma propre main, et l'ai sousecrit 
de mon propre sang que je me suis tire expressement pour ce 
faire, de mon sens et de mon jugement, de ma pensee et vo- 
lonte, et l'ai arrete, scelle et testifie, &c." — (Cayetfs Widman, 
part i.) 

In Marlow's Faustus the instrument is formally set out. 

72. But if thou hast food, fyc] — This passage has caused a 
good deal of puzzling, though neither Falk nor Schubart seems 
to be aware of any difficulty : 

" I know thy rotten gifts, says Faust. Which of thy fine 
goods of the earth will'st thou offer me ? How could the like 
of thee ever be capable of measuring the unquiet of man's 
breast ? Hast thou food to serve up which never satisfies ? Or 
canst thou only show trees which daily bloom anew and bud 
again ? I loathe this foliage of yesterday, this tale, which, ever 
the same, is told in the morning, and in the evening dies away 
again — 

. " Zeig mir die Frucht die fault eh' man sie bricht 
Und Ba'ume die sich taglich neu begrunen." — 

(Falk, p. 283.) 



252 



NOTES. 



" This (Mephistopheles' promise) appears to Faust but mock- 
cry. What can a devil give a man to satisfy him, when he is 
not capable of giving it to himself? The gifts of a devil, he 
says, are but delusions, and melt away in the same manner as 
his quicksilver-like gold ; thus he can only bestow fruits which 
would not rot before the plucking, but no ever-budding tree 
sprouts forth beneath his skill and fostering. " — (Schubart. 198.) 

None of the editions that I have ever seen make the hast du 
an interrogatory, as Falk seems to understand it. There are 
authorities, however, for construing it — Though thou hast, &c. 
It is also contended that — 

u Doch hast du Speise die nicht sattigt, hast 
Du rothes Geld, occ." 

is to be construed affirmatively : " However, thou hast food 
which never satisfies," &c. \ — and that the zeig mir, fyc. is 
ironical, and tantamount to saying : " This is all thou canst 
show me." Bat 011 this construction I do not see how the 
inversion of the second hast du is to be justified, whilst the 
answer of Mephistopheles clearly implies that the zeig mir, fyc. 
was a demand on the part of Faust. The most probable sup- 
position is, that Faust's meaning was pretty nearly the same 
as in the subsequent speech, in which he expresses a wish to 
enjoy all that is parcelled out amongst mankind, pain and 
pleasure, success and disappointment, indifferently. Taking 
this wish into consideration, we may well suppose him say- 
ing : — "You can give nothing of any real value in the eyes 
of a man like me ; but if you have the common perishable 
enjoyments of humanity to bestow, let me have them." 

73. At the doctor's feast.] — Alluding to the inauguration 
feast given on the taking of a degree. 

74. I ara not a hairs breadth higher, d-c.] — " Which of you 
by taking thought can add one cubit to his stature ?" — Matth. 
vi. 27. 

75. As all the French translators have mistaken the word 
intended, I shall follow Gibbon's example, and give it in a 



NOTES. 



253 



learned language. The German H is Og/sig, and not, as 

the French translators suppose, ITvyrj. The point, however, is 
doubtful. 

76. And am a proper man.'] — 

" As proper a man as any in Venice." — (ShaJcspeare.) 

77. Whose overstrained striving overleaps, fyc] — 

" I have no spur 
To prick the sides of my intent, but only 
Vaulting Ambition, which o'erleaps itself 
And falls on the other." — {Macbeth.) 

78. A Student enters.] — This scene is a satire on the modes 
of instruction pursued in German Universities, and has been 
much admired. But the effect is in a great measure produced 
by the happy application of pedantic phrases and college slang, 
which are no more capable of being relished in England, than 
such terms as wooden-spoon, little-go, cramming, plucking, in Ger- 
many. A distinguished scholar has the following allusion to 
this scene and the three other scenes which have been thought 
to resemble it in tone : — " To the great and overwhelming 
tragic powers of Goethe, Aristophanes, of course, can make no 
pretension ; but in their preference of the arbitrary comic to 
the comic of manners, the two writers come very close together ; 
and both writers should have lived, as Madame de Stael ex- 
presses it, when there was an intellectual chaos, similar to the 
material chaos. Had Aristophanes written in modern times, it 
is, perhaps, not impertinent to suggest, that the Auerbach's 
Keller in Leipzig, the Hexenkiiche, the Walpurgisnacht, and 
perhaps the quizzing scene with the young student just fresh 
from his university, are precisely the sort of scenes which 
would have fallen from his pen." — {Mitchell's Translation of 
Aristophanes, Preface,^, xxvii.) 

It is evident from many passages in his Memoirs, that 
Goethe's early impressions of university pursuits were pretty 
nearly what he has put into the mouth of Mephistopheles ; nor, 
if we are to believe Falk, did his opinions change materially 
in after-life : — 



254 



NOTES. 



" Our scientific men are rather too fond of details. They 
count out to us the whole consistency of the earth in separate 
lots, and are so happy as to have a different name for every 
lot. That is argil (Thonerde ;) that is quartz (Keiselerde ;) that 
is this, and this is that. But what am I the better if I am ever 
so perfect in all these names ? "When I hear them I always 
mink of the old lines in Faust — 

" Encheiresin natures nennt's die Chemie 
Bohrt sich selber Esel und weiss nicht wie ! " 

" What am I the better for these lots ? what for their names ? 
I want to know what it is that impels every several portion of 
the universe to seek out some other portion, — either to rule or 
to obey it, — and qualifies some for the one part and some for 
the other, according to a law innate in them all, and operating 
like a voluntary choice. But this is precisely the point upon 
which the most perfect and universal silence prevails.' 7 

u Everything in science," said he ; at another time, with the 
same turn of thought, " is become too much divided into com- 
partments, In our professors' chairs the several provinces 
(F'dcher) are violently and arbitrarily severed, and alloted into 
half-yearly courses of lectures, according to fixed plans. The 
number of real discoveries is small, especially when one views 
them consecutively through a few centuries. Most of what 
these people are so busy about is mere repetition of what has 
been said by this or that celebrated predecessor. Such a thing 
as independent original knowledge is hardly thought of. 
Young men are driven in flocks into lecture-rooms, and are 
crammed, for want of any real nutriment, with quotations and 
words. The insight which is wanting to the teacher, the learner 
is to get for himself as he may. No great wisdom or acuteness 
is necessary to perceive that this is an entirely mistaken path." 
— {Mrs. Austin' 's Characteristics of Goethe.) 

It is worthy of note that Burton (Anat. part i. sec. 2, subsec. 
7) remarks on the several sciences in somewhat the same spirit 
as Goethe. 

79. Spanish boots.] — The Spanish boot was an instrument 



NOTES. 



255 



of torture, like the Scottish boot mentioned in Old Mortality, 
(vol. ii. p. 406.) 

80. Then many a day will be spent in teaching you, fyc.] — 
" In logic it struck me as strange that I was so to pull to pieces, 
dismember, and, as it were, destroy those very operations of 
the mind which I had gone through with the greatest ease from 
my youth, in order to perceive the proper use of them." — 
(Goethe 's Memoirs.) 

" And all a rhetorician's rules 
Teach nothing but to name his tools/' — (Hudibras.) 

81. He who wishes to know and describe anything living, fyc] — 
" Like following life in creatures we dissect, 

"We lose it in the moment we detect." — (Pope.) 

" It was, generally speaking, the prevailing tendency of the 
time which preceded our own, — a tendency displayed also in 
physical science, — to consider what is possessed of life as a mere 
accumulation of dead parts, to separate w r hat exists only in 
connection and cannot be otherwise conceived, instead of pene- 
trating to the central point and viewing all the parts as so many 
irradiations from it." — (SchlegeVs Lectures on Dramatic Art 
and Literature, vol. ii. p. 127.) 

82. Five lectures every day.] — Five is the number of Courses 
of Lectures a young and eager student ordinarily attends at 
the outset. 

83. As if the Holy Ghost were dictating to you.] — It is or was 
the custom in Germany for the professors to read slowly enough 
for their pupils to follow them with the pen. This was called 
dictating. 

84. I cannot reconcile myself to jurisprudence.'] — Here again 
Goethe is repeating his own* sentiments. He was originally 
destined by his father for the law, but it was only with the 
greatest reluctance that he could be brought to qualify himself 
for the necessary examination at Strasburg, where such exami- 
nations were comparatively light. He says, that he had no 



256 



NOTES. 



turn for anything positive. — {Memoirs, book ix.) I presume 
it is hardly necessary to add, that the exclamation, " Woe to 
thee that thou art a grandson/ - alludes to the artificial and 
complicated systems which people coming late into the world 
are pretty sure to find entailed upon them — as a lawyer, fond 
of my profession, I must be excused for adding — unavoidably. 
The law that is born with us, means, I suppose, what in com- 
mon parlance is called the law of nature. It may assist future 
translators, not versed in German jurisprudence, to be told, that 
Gesetz, in strictness, means enactment, and Recht, law, or a 
rule of law, generally. Gesetz, und Recht, therefore, are both 
included under the term laws. 

85. The spirit of medicine.'] — It appears that Goethe associ- 
ated a good deal with medical students at Strasburg, and took 
considerable interest in the studies usually followed in connec- 
tion with medicine. 

" Un cours professe a la meme faculte, (Medicine, at "Wurtz- 
burg,) par M. Hensler porte un titre trop piquant pour que 
nous ne croyions pas devoir le reproduire. II se propose de 
traiter de la science et de la vie Universitaire en general, et 
plus particulierement de la medecine de la methode la plus 
favorable a suivre pour l'etudier, d'apres le Faust de Goethe.' 7 
— (From an article in the Revue Enajclopedique, by M. Lagar- 
mitte.) There is a profound Latin work on Theology, by a 
gentleman named \ r alzer, in which the immediately preceding 
passage in theology is raised into as much importance as ever 
M. Hensler can raise the remarks on Medicine. 

86. We have but to spread out the mantle.] — This was the 
mode of travelling afforded by Asmodeus to Don Cleofas. 

87. AnerbacWs cellar at Leipzig.] — Auerbach's cellar is a 
place of public entertainment of the same class and character 
as the Cider Cellar in Maiden Lane, Covent Garden. I supped 
there during my last visit to Germany, and took some pains to 
ascertain the traditions connected with it, which the waiter 
seemed to have a particular pleasure in communicating. He 
assured me that there was not the shadow of a doubt as to my 



NOTES. 



257 



being seated in the very vault in which both Faust and Goethe 
had caroused • and, producing an old copy of Widman, he 
avowed himself ready to make oath that it had been in the 
cellar, as a sort of heir-loom , for 300 years at the least. It was 
really a very curious copy, but only bore the date of MDCXCV. 
The principal curiosities of the vault are two very old paintings, 
shaped like the segment of a circle, painted, it is supposed, to 
commemorate Faust's presence and achievements there. The 
one represents him at the table drinking to the sound of music, 
with a party of students ; the other represents him in the act 
of passing out at the door upon a cask, whilst the spectators 
are holding up their hands in astonishment. The first-men- 
tioned bears a Latin inscription, which has proved a puzzler to 
the philologists : # — 

" Vive, Bibe, Obgregare, Memor 
Fauste hujus et hujus 
Pamse. Aderat claudo hsec 
Asterat ample Gradu. — 1525." 

A distinguished scholar, Dr. Maginn, proposes to read it 
thus : — 

" Vive, Bibe, Obgregare, Memor 
Fausti hujus et hujus 
Paenee. Aderat clauda hsec, 
Ast erat ampla Gradu. — 1525." 

Over the other are inscribed the lines following : — 

" Doctor Faust zu dieser Frist 
Aus Auerbach's Keller geritten ist, 
Auf einem Fass mit Wein geschwind, 
Welches gesehen viel Mutterkind. 
Solches durch seine subtile Kraft hat gethan, 
Und des Teufel's Lohn empfangen davon. — 1525." 

It has been made a doubt whether this date (1525) refers to 
the time at which the pictures were painted, or to that at which 

*See the Leipziger Tageblatt for 1833, Nos. 22, 23, 25; and Stieglitz's 
Sage vom Doctor Faust. 



25S 



NOTES. 



the adventures took place. The following are the best tradi- 
tional accounts of the magical exploits in the text : — 

" At the city of Prague is a publican's house, known by the 
sign of the Anchor, where the Doctor one day called as he was 
upon a tour. Seating himself among the travellers, in a short 
time he thus accosted them : - 1 Gentlemen, would you like to 
partake of all kinds of foreign wines in the world ? ' The 
whole party, with one accord, cried out, 1 Yes, yes ! ' ' Then 
will you first like to taste the French, Spanish, Rhenish, Mala- 
ga, or any ether kind ? ' continued he ; ' whichever you most 
approve.' 

" Upon this one of the guests exclaimed : — ' Doctor Faustus ! 
whatever wine you please to furnish, Doctor, we shall find 
some means of disposing of it.' Whereupon he begged them 
to provide him with plenty of bottles and glasses, and he 
would supply the rest. This being done, he bored several holes 
in the table, and, placing a funnel in each, he held the bottles 
under it, and decanted as much wine as they would contain. 
As he laid them down one after another, the delighted guests 
began to laugh heartily, and heartily did they regale them- 
selves." — (Roscoe's German Novelists, vol. i. p. 377.) The other 
adventure, in which the guests of Faust seize each other's noses, 
mistaking them for grapes, is also told by Mr. Roscoe. The 
old French version of Widman runs thus : — 

" Le Docteur Fauste avoit, en un certain lieu, invite des 
homines principaux pour les traiter, sans qu'il eiit apprete 
aucune chose. Quand done ils furent venus, ils virent bien 
la table couverte, mais la cuisine etoit encore froide. II se 
faisoit aussi des noces, le meme soir, d'un riche et honnete 
bourgeois, et avoient ete tous les domestiques de la maison 
empechez, pour bien et honorablement traiter les gens qui y 
etoient invitez. Ce que le Docteur Fauste aiant appris, com- 
manda a son Esprit que de ces noces il lui apportat un service 
de vivres tout appretez, soit poissons ou autres, qu' incontinent 
il les enlevat de la pour traiter ses hotes. Soudain il y eut en 
la maison, ou Ton faisoit les noces, un grand vent par les 
cheminees, fenetres et portes, qui eteignit toutes les chandelles. 
Apres que le vent fut cesse, et les chandelles derechef allumez, 
et qu'ils eurent vu d'ou le tumulte avoit ete, ils trouverent, 



NOTES. 



259 



qu'il manquoit a un mets une piece de roti, a un autre une 
poule, a un autre une oye, et que dans la chaudiere il man- 
quoit aussi de grands poissons. Lors furent Fauste et ses 
invitez pourvus de vivres, mais le vin manquoit : toutefois 
non pas long-temps, car Mephostophiles fut fort bien au voyage 
de Florence dans les caves de Fougres, dont il en apporta 
quantite ; mais apres qu'ils eurent mange, ils desiroient, (qui 
est ce pour quoi ils etoient principalement venus,) qu'il leur fit 
pour plaisir quelque tour d'enchantemens. Lors il leur fit 
venir sur la table une vigne avec ses grappes de saison, dont 
un chacun en prit sa part. II commanda puis aeprs de prendre 
un couteau, et le mettre a la racine, comme s'ils l'eussent 
voulu couper. N^anmoins, ils n'en parent pas venir a bout : 
puis apres, il se'n alia hors des etuves, et ne tarda gueres sans 
revenir; lors ils s'arreterent tous et se tinrent Fun Tautre 
par le nez, et un couteau dessus. Quand done puis apres ils 
voulurent, ils piirent couper les grappes. Cela leur fut ainsi 
mis aucunement, mais ils eurent bien voulu qu'il les eut fait 
venir toutes meures." — (Part iii. ch. 33.) 

The adventure on the cask is also recorded in this history. 

88. Soar up, Madam Nightingale, give my sweetheart ten thou- 
sand greetings for me.] — The following is the song which Goethe 
probably had in his mind : — 

" FRAU NACHTIGALL. 

"Nachtigal, ich hor dich sin gen 
Dar Herz mocht mir im Leib zerspringen, 
Komme doch und sag mir bald, 
Wie ich mich verhalten soil. 

"Nachtigal, ich seh dich laufen 
An dem Bachlein thust du saufen, 
Du tunkst dein klein Schnablein ein 
Meinst es war der beste Wein. 

u Nachtigal, wo ist gut wohnen, 
Auf den Linden, in den Kronen, 
17 



260 



NOTES. 



Bei der schon Frau Nachtigal, 
Gruss mein Sch'dtzchen tausendmal." 

I take this song from the collection of Alte Deutsche Lieder, 
entitled Des Knaben Wunderhorn, compiled by MM. von Arnim 
and Brentano. The plan was probably suggested by Dr. Per- 
cy's Relics ; a book which (translated and imitated by Burger, 
Herder, and others) has exercised at least as great an influence 
on German literature as on our own. (See some interesting 
remarks on this subject in the last edition of Wordsworth' s 
Works, vol. i. p. 329.) 

89. Leipsic is the place, fyc] — It appears/rom his Memoirs, 
that when Goethe commenced his college studies at Leipzig, a 
great affectation of politeness prevailed amongst the students. 

90. I dare say you are lately from Rippach ? Did you sup with 
Mr. Hans before you left ?] — Rippach is a village near Leipzig, 
and to ask for Hans von Rippach, an entirely fictitious person- 
age, was an old joke amongst the students. The ready reply 
of Mephistopheles, indicating no surprise, shows Siebel and 
Altmayer that he is up to it. Hans is the German Jack, as 
Hans der Riesentddter, Jack the Giant-killer . 

91. Mephistopheles sings.'] — A particular favorite at the 
court of Weimar is said to be alluded to. " Bertuch, the father, 
(says Falk,) who was treasurer to the Duke, used in after times 
to speak with great glee of a singular head in the accounts 
which he had to submit in those days. It consisted almost 
entirely of breeches, waistcoats, shoes, and stockings for Ger- 
man literati, who were wandering within the gates of Weimar, 
slenderly provided with those articles." 

92. Witches 1 Kitchen.] — The best commentary on this scene 
is to be found in Retzsch's Outlines. The monkeys are there 
represented as something between the monkey and the baboon ; 
but he himself told me that Meerkatze is the common little 
long-tailed monkey. The term is thus used in a German trans- 
lation of Lear. " Eine unvergleichliche Ausflucht fur einen 
Hurenjager, seinen Meerkatzen-Trieb den Sternen zur Last zu 



NOTES. 



261 



legen." — (Act i. sc. 2, in Edmund's Speech on Planetary In- 
fluences.) Madame de Stael considers it to mean something 
between a monkey and a cat. 

The following passage may save the reader a good deal of 
profitless puzzling: — "For thirty years they (the Germans) 
have been sorely vexed and tormented in spirit by the broom- 
stick on the Blocksberg and the cat's dialogue in the Witches' 
kitchen, which occur in Faust, and all the interpreting and 
allegorizing of this dramatic-humoristic extravaganza have 
never thoroughly prospered. Really, people should learn when 
they are young to make and take a joke, and to throw away 
scraps as scraps." — (Falk.) 

93. At the Feast, fyc] — Falk observes, in allusion to the 
text of these three lines, that Faust and Mephistopheles are 
greeted in a tone, which, through the diphthong au, bears a 
strong affinity to the language of monkeys. 

94. Coarse beggars' broth.] — " The breiten Bettel-Suppen 
have an ironical reference to the coarse superstitions which 
extend with a thick palpable shade amongst all nations through- 
out the whole history of the w 7 orld." — (Falk.) 

95. Take the brush here, fyc] — Retzsch represents Mephis- 
topheles as holding a light screen or fan in his hand. 

96. Oh ! be so good as to glue the crown, fyc] — "A wish 
which, profoundly considered, sounds so politically, that one 
would swear the monkey-spirits had read the history of both 
the old Romish and the new empire, chapter by chapter, with 
all its dethronings and assassinations, from the beginning of 
the first to the end of the last war." — (Falk.) 

97. Thou atomy.] — 

11 Thou atomy, thou ! " — (Henry IV. Part II. act v. sc. 4.) 

98. The northern phantom is no more to be seen. Where do 
you now see horns, tail, and claws ?] — The old German cate- 
chisms, from Luther's time downwards, were generally adorned 



262 



NOTES. 



with a frontispiece, representing the Devil, with all the above- 
mentioned appendages. This, mode of inoculating youth with 
correct theological notions has been gradually laid aside in 
most countries. 

99. That is the witches 1 one-times-one.] — i. e., multiplication - 
table. 

100. For a downright contradiction, $-c] — Dr. Hinrichs' note 
on this passage is : — " A system of philosophy which, like that 
of Hegel, begins with such a contradiction, — for instance, Das 
Seyn ist Nichts, has the advantage that it frightens away those 
who have no call for it, both wise men and fools." If this be 
an advantage, there can be little doubt that Hegel possesses it. 
I once heard a singular illustration of his obscurity. He had 
proposed a toast at a public dinner, which it was the duty of 
the toastmaster to give out. This functionary made several 
efforts, and had more than one consultation with the philoso- 
pher, but was at length obliged to give up the undertaking in 
despair, and declared aloud that he did not understand a word 
of it. I heard this story told at a supper party in Germany, 
by an eminent professor. 

101. Margaret.] — Goethe's first love was called Margaret. 
She was a girl of an inferior rank in life, apprenticed, during 
the love affair, to a milliner. He was about fifteen at the 
commencement of the acquaintance, and she two or three years 
older. Previously to the introduction, he was in the habit of 
following her to church, but never ventured on accosting her. 
— (See the Dichtung mid Wahrheit, b. 5.) It is a pity she had 
not been called Elizabeth, that we might use the English 
diminutive Bessy. I shall hardly be censured for not calling 
her Peggy, which is the correct translation of Gretchen. 

102. All sorts of nonsense^ — " Ces pendardes-la, avec leur 
pommade, ont, je pense, envie de me ruiner. Je ne vois par- 
tout que blancs d'oeufs, lait virginal, et mille autres brimborions, 
que je ne connois point." — (Les Precieuses Ridicules ; Act i. 
sc. 4.) 



NOTES. 



263 



103. Besides , he would not else have been so impudent.'] — The 
lower classes in England have also an awkward habit of asso- 
ciating a more than ordinary degree of shamelessness or profli- 
gacy with gentility. The gamekeeper of a lady of rank, in 
Hampshire, once came to tell her that a gentleman was sport- 
ing over her best preserves, and refused to listen to remon- 
strances. " A gentleman," said her ladyship, " how do you 
know him to be a gentleman?" u Because," was the reply, 
"he keeps fourteen horses and another man's wife." 

104. Am I breathing an enchanted atmosphere ?] — 

" 'T is her breathing that 
Perfumes the chamber thus." 

(Cymbeline, Act ii. sc. 2.) 

There is some analogy between this scene and La Nouvelle 
Heloise, vol. i. lett. 54, though Faust's feelings in his mis- 
tress' chamber are very different .from St. Preux's. 

105. It feels so close, so sultry here.] — 

11 Now, by my life, this day grows wondrous hot ; 
Some airy devil hovers in the sky, 
And pours down mischief." 

{King John, Act iii. sc. 2.) 

106. There was a Icing in Thule.] — Many of the songs in 
Faust, this amongst others, were not originally written for it. 
Goethe mentions in his Memoirs that he sung this song with 
considerable applause in a social meeting. 

107. I would change rings with you myself^] — In some coun- 
tries of Germany, the bridegroom, instead of placing the ring 
on the finger of the bride, gives one to her, and receives one 
in return. 

108. Two witnesses.] — Alluding to the rule of the civil law, 
which forms the basis of all the German systems. — Urdus 
responsio testis omnino non audiatur. — (Cod. 4, 20, 9.) 

109. I tremble all over.] — The best translation of Mich uber- 



264 



NOTES. 



I'duffs would be by an expression which I once heard a young 
lady employ, though I am not aware that there is classical 
authority for it : — " I. felt a sort of all-overishness." 

110. From the wall-like rocks, out of the damp underwood — 

{t How divine 
The liberty for frail, for mortal man, 
To roam at large among unpeopled glens 
And mountainous retirements, only trod 
By devious footsteps ; regions consecrate 
To oldest time ! and, reckless of the storm 
That keeps the raven quiet in her nest, 
Be as a presence or a motion — one 
Among the many there : and, while the mists 
Flying, and rainy vapors, call out shapes 
And phantoms from the craigs and solid earth, 
As fast as a musician scatters sounds 
Out of an instrument ; and while the streams " — 

(The Excursion.) 

" And he, with many feelings, many thoughts, 
Made up a meditative joy, and found 
Religious meanings in the forms of nature." 

(Coleridge, Sibylline Leaves, p. 65.) 

111. Like a snow-flushed rivulet.'] — " Like a rock in the 
mid-channel of a river swoln by a sudden rain-flush from the 
mountains, &c/' — (Coleridge's Aids to Reflection, p. 79.) 

112. Were I a bird, fyc] — The song alluded to is the fol- 
lowing : — 

" "Wenn ich ein Voglein war, 
Und auch zwei Fiiigeln hatt, 
Flog ich zu dir ; 
"Weils aber nicht kann seyn, 
Bleib ich all hier. 

( ( Bin ich gleich weit von dir, 
Bin ich doch im Schlaf bei dir, 



NOTES. 



265 



Und red mit dir j 
Wenn ich erwachen thu, 
Bin ich allein. 

" Es vergeht keine Stund in der Nacht, 
Da mein Herze nicht erwacht, 
Und an dich gedenkt, 
Dass du mir tausendmal 
Dein Herze geschenkt." 

(Herder's Volkslieder, b. i. p. 67 — 
Wunderhom, part i. p. 231.) 

113. One while fairly outwept.] — 

" as with no stain 
She faded like a cloud that has outwept its rain." 

(Shelley, Adonais.) 
"Lo pianto stesso li pianger non lascia." 

(Dante, Inf. canto 33.) 

114. The twin-pair, which feed among roses.] — " Thy two 
breasts are like two young roes that are twins, which feed 
among the lilies." — (Song of Solomon, ch. iv. v. 5.) " Je ne 
vous conseille pas de traduire cela litteralement. On jeterait 
les hauts cris. C'est k la responsabilite du poete. L'esprit 
malin semble vouloir insinuer que les saints meme, et les sages, 
tels que Solomon, n'etaient pas insensibles aux attraits de la 
volupte." — (M. de Schlegel — private letter.) 

115. And all her homely cares embraced 7vithin that little 
world.] — 

" Flies from her home, the humble sphere 
XX Of all her joys and sorrows here ; 

Her father's house of mountain-stone, 
And by a mountain vine o'ergrown. 
At such an hour, in such a night, 
So calm, so clear, so heavenly bright, 
"Who would have seen, and not confessed 
It looked as all within were blest." 

(Rogers, Jacqueline.) 



266 NOTES. 



116. Are we not looking into each other's eyes ?] — 

" When full of blissful sighs, 

They sat and looked into each others eyes." 

(Lalla Rookh.) 

117. I have no name for it.] — " The Persian poet, Saadi of 
Schiraz, says, according to Herder : — 1 "Who knows God, is 
silent.' " 

" They looked up to the sky, whose floating glow 
Spread like a rosy ocean, vast and bright ; 
They gazed upon the glittering sea below, 
Whence the broad moon rose circling into sight ; 
They heard the wave's splash, and the wind so low, 
And saw each other's dark eyes darting light 
Into each other." — (Don Juan.) 

Clarchen : "Lass mich schweigen ! lass mich dich halten. 
Lass mich dir in die Augen sehen ; alles darin finden, Trost 
und Hoffnung, und Freude und Kummer." — (Egrnont, Act iii.) 

' ' I have asked that dreadful question of the hills 
That look eternal ; of the flowing streams 
That lucid flow forever ; of the stars, 
Amid whose fields of azure my raised spirit 
Hath trod in glory : all were dumb ; but now, 
While I thus gaze upon thy living face, 
I feel the love that kindles through its beauty 
Can never wholly perish ; we shall meet 
Again, Clemanthe ! " — (Ion, Act v. sc. 2.) 

118. Name is sound and smoke.] — In most of the editions 
preceding the collected edition of Goethe's Works commenced 
in 1828, it stands : — Nature is sound and smoke. 

119. The man you have with you is hateful to me, $-c.] — 
Margaret's intuitive apprehension of Mephistopheles is copied 
from an incident mentioned in Goethe's Memoirs : — "I could 
scarcely rest till I had introduced my friend Merk at Lotta's, 
(the original of Werthers Charlotte,) but his presence in this 
circle did me no good ; for, like Mephistopheles, go where he 



NOTES. 



267 



will, he will hardly bring a blessing with him." Goethe al- 
ways called this friend " Mephistopheles Merk," and gives a 
strange account of the mingled goodness and devilishness of 
his disposition. The same feeling is beautifully described in 
the following lines by Coleridge : — 

" And yet Sarolta, simple, inexperienced, 
Could see him as he was, and often warned me ! 
Whence learned she this ? 0, she was innocent ! 
And to be innocent is nature's wisdom ! 
The hedge-dove knows the prowlers of the air, 
Feared soon as seen, and nutters back to shelter , 
And the young steed recoils upon his haunches, 
The never-yet-seen adder's hiss first heard. 
O, surer than suspicion's hundred eyes 
Is that fine sense, which, to the pure in heart, 
By mere oppugnancy of their own goodness, 
Reveals th' approach of evil." — (Zapolya.) 

Sir Walter Scott had probably one or both of these passages 
in his mind when he wrote the following : — " The innocent 
Alice, without being able to discover what was wrong either in 
the scenes of unusual luxury with which she was surrounded, 
or in the manners of her hostess, which, both from nature and 
policy, were kind and caressing, felt nevertheless an instinctive 
apprehension that all was not right, — a feeling in the human 
mind, allied, perhaps, to that sense of danger which animals 
exhibit when placed in the vicinity of the natural enemies of 
their race, and which makes birds cower when the hawk is in 
the air, and beasts tremble when the tiger is abroad in the 
desert. There was a heaviness at her heart which she could 
not dispel, and the few hours which she had already spent at 
Chiffinch's, were like those passed in a prison by one uncon- 
scious of the cause or event of his captivity." — (Peveril of the 
Peak, vol. iii. p. 6, last edition.) 

120. Full of her faith, #c] — The words : — 

" Der ganz allein 
Ihr selig machend ist," 



268 



NOTES. 



have here the same meaning as in Dr. Carove's celebrated 
work, Ueber Alleinseligmaehende Kirche ; i. e., the Catholic 
Church, which commonly arrogates this title to itself. 

121. We will strew cut straw before her door.] — This alludes 
to a German custom something analogous to Skimmerton- 
riding in this country. It consists in strewing cut or chopped 
straw before the door of a bride whose virtue is suspected, the 
day before the wedding. The garland (like the snood) is a 
token of virginity, and a ruined maiden is said to have lost her 
garland. 

Bessy's want of charity recalls the well-known lines in The 
Giaour : — 

" No : gayer insects fluttering by 
Ne'er droop the wing o'er those that die, 
And lovelier things have mercy shown 
To every failing but their own 5 
And every woe a tear can claim, 
Except an erring sister's shame." 

122. Zwinger.] — Zwinger is untranslatable, and I find a 
good deal of doubt existing as to the meaning of the term. 
" Zwinger, (says a learned correspondent,) from Z?vingen 7 to 
subdue, is a name given to castles found in some of the free 
towns, and formerly held by an imperial governor. They are 
often in the middle of the town, and have a passage wherein 
a devotional image with a lamp has occasionally been placed, 
not expressly for the sake of devotion, but to lighten up a dark 
passage j Margaret wishes to be unobserved, and prefers this 
lonely spot to the chapel." This account was confirmed to 
me in conversation by Retzsch. In his Outline of the scene, 
Margaret is represented kneeling before an image of the Virgin 
placed in a niche close to a church. I add a passage from Mr. 
Downes' Letters from Continental Countries upon this subject : 
" On our way (from Goslar to the Rammelsberg) we visited the 
Zwinger, an old tower of three stories, containing a saloon for 
masquerades. The walls are so thick as to admit of a small 
side apartment, adjoining one of the windows. A scene in 



NOTES. 



269 



Goethe's Faust is entitled Zwinger j it is perhaps identical with 
this." — (Vol. ii. lett. 45.) 

123. Mater Dolorosa.] — The following lines of Manzoni, (a 
great favorite of Goethe,) in his hymn to the Virgin, might be 
supposed to have been suggested by this scene : 

" La femminetta nel tuo sen regale 
La sua spregiata lagrima depone, 
E a te, beata, della sua immortale 
Alma gli affanni espone : 
A te, che i prieghi ascolti e le querele 
Non come suole il mondo, ne degl' imi 
E de' grandi il dolor col suo crudele 
Discernimento estimi." 

124. Can that be the treasure rising, fyc] — This alludes to a 
superstitious belief that the presence of a treasure is indicated 
by a blue light or flame, though only, I believe, to the initiated. 
The same allusion occurs in the Intermezzo, ante, p. 201 ; and 
also in a little poem by Goethe, called Der Schatzgrdber : — 

" Und ich sah ein Licht von weitem 
Und es kam gleich einem Sterne." 

In the Antiquary, too, in the scene between Sir Arthur "VVar- 
dour and Dousterswivel, in the ruins of St. Ruth, it is said, 
"No supernatural light burst forth from below, to indicate the 
subterranean treasury." — (Vol. i. p. 317.) 

125. Liondollars.] — The Lowenthaler is a coin first struck 
by the Bohemian Count Schlick, from the mines of Joachims- 
Thai, in Bohemia j the finest in the years 1518 — 1529, under 
Ludovic, the first king of Hungary and Bohemia. The one 
side represents the fork-tailed lion, with the inscription — 
" Ludwig I. D. G. Rex Bohm." The reverse, the full-length 
image of St. John, with the arms of Schlick. — (Kohler's 
Muntz-Belustigungen.) 

126. What are you doi?ig here, Catherine ?] — This song is 
obviously imitated from Ophelia's. — {Hamlet, Act iv. sc. 5.) 



270 



NOTES. 



127. Rat-catcher.] — 

" Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?" 

{Romeo and Juliet, Act iii. sc. 1.) 

The common people m Germany believe (or believed) that 
rat-catchers, by whistling or piping a peculiar note, could com- 
pel the rats to follow them wherever they chose. — {Deutsche 
Sagen, No. 245.) This accounts for the application of the term 
to a serenading seducer. . 

128. Out with your toasting-iron.'] — 

" Put up thy sword betime, 
Or I '11 so maul you and your toasting-iron, 
That you shall think the devil is come from hell." 

{King John, Act. iv. sc. 3.) 

The German word Flederwisch, literally goosewing, is a cant 
term for a sword. 

129. I am perfectly at home with the police, but should find it 
hard to clear scores with the criminal courts.] — Blutbann is an old 
name for criminal jurisdiction in the general sense. The dis- 
tinction between Polizei-TJebertretungen and Verbrechen, to which 
the above passage might otherwise be supposed to refer, was 
introduced into the German systems in imitation of the French 
code ; consequently not till long after the period at which this 
scene was written. — (See Mittermaier 's Strafverfahren, pp. 10 
and 16.) To make matters sure, I referred both Blutbann and 
Blutschuld to M. Mittermaier himself. 

130. When first shame, &c] — 

1 1 The while some one did chant this lovely lay ; 

Ah see, whose fair thing dost fain to see 
The springing flower the image of thy day, 

Ah see the virgin rose, how sweetly she 
Dost first peep forth with bashful modesty, 

The fairer seems, the less ye see her may ; 
Lo, see soon after how more bold and free 



NOTES. 271 

Her bared bosom she doth broad display ; 

Lo ; see soon after, how she fades and falls away." 

(Spenser.) 

131. Evil spirit behind Margaret.] — 

u I looked to heaven and tried to pray, 
But or ever a prayer had gusht, 
A wicked whisper'carne and made 
My heart as dry as dust." 

(Rime of the Ancient Mariner.) 



132. And under thy heart stirs it not quickening now ?] — 

" She held within 
A second principle of life, which might 
Have dawned a fair and sinless child of sin." 

(Don Juan, Canto iv.) 

It is common in Germany to say, Sie tr'dgt das Pfand der 
Liebe water ihrem Herzen — " She bears the pledge of love under 
her heart." Thus Schiller, in Die Kindesmorderin, — " Nicht 
das Knablein unter meinem Herzen ? " Shelley also has the 
same allusion : — ■ 

u Methought I was about to be a mother ; 
Month after month went by, and still I dreamed 
That we should soon be all to one another, 
I and my child ; and still new pulses seemed 
To beat beside my heart, and still I deemed 
There was a babe within • and when the rain 
Of winter through the rifted cavern streamed, 
Methought, after a lapse of lingering pain, 
I saw that lovely shape, which near my heart had lainP 
(The Revolt of Islam, Canto vii.) 

133. I feel as if the organ, fyc] — There is a passage some- 
where in Goethe's works (I forgot to note down the place) in 
which he describes the Dies ires as having a similar effect upon 
himself. Mr. W. Taylor says that Sir W. Scott borrowed a 
hint or two from this scene for the Lay of the Last Minstrel. 
I suppose he alludes to the thirtieth stanza of the last Canto : — 



272 



NOTES. 



" And ever in the office close 
The hymn of intercession rose : 
And far the echoing aisles prolong 
The awful burden of the song — 
Dies irse, Dies ilia. 
Solvet sseclum in favilla — # 
While the pealing organ rung." 

134. May-day Night. The Hartz Mountains. District of 
Schirke and Elend.] — Walpurgis is the name of the female 
saint who converted the Saxons to Christianity. May-day Night 
is dedicated to her. The Hartz is the most northerly range of 
mountains in Germany, and run to a considerable extent ; com- 
prising (according to the Conversations-Lexicon) about 1350 
square miles, mostly within the district of Hanover. The 
Brocken or Blocksberg is the highest summit of the chain, on 
the top of which all the witches of Germany hold an annual 
meeting. Schirke and Elend are two villages on or near the 
Brocken. As these mountains are now a favorite resort of 
tourists, it is useless to add a minute description of them, which 
there is a good guide-book to supply. f Mr. Downes, also, in 
his letters from Continental Countries, has given a con amove 
description of the localities j and Heine has supplied some 
curious particulars in the first volume of his Reisebilder. Dr. 
Schubart says, that, just as the Greeks had their Olympus, the 
Jews their Sinai, the Spaniards their Montserrat, the Indians 
the Himelaya mountains, even so have the Germans their 
Blocksberg. In the case of the Blocksberg, however, there are 
assignable causes for the superstitions associated with it, in 
addition to that which the wildness of the mountain affords. 
On the first establishment of Christianity, the Druids are said to 
have taken refuge on it j and the lights and noises attendant on 
the celebration of their rites were mistaken by the surrounding 
peasantry for sorcery. In one of Goethe's minor poems, Die 

* For the remainder jf the Dies Irce; see Appendix, No. III. 

f See Gotschalk's Taschenbuch fur Reisende in den Hartz, and Mr. 
Murray's Handbook, in which every species of useful information is com- 
municated. 



NOTES. 



273 



erste Walpurgisnacht, spiritedly translated by Dr. Anster, the 
effects of this belief are vividly portrayed. Another cause is 
to be found in a phenomenon thus described by the author of 
Waverley : " The solitudes of the Hartz forest , in Germany, 
but especially the mountains called Blocksberg, or rather Brock- 
enburg, are the chosen scenes for the tales of witches, demons, 
and apparitions. The occupation of the inhabitants, who are 
either miners or foresters, is of a kind that renders them pecu- 
liarly prone to superstition, and the natural phenomena which 
they witness in pursuit of their solitary or subterraneous pro- 
fession, are often set down by them to the interference of 
goblins, or the power of magic. Among the various legends 
current in that wild country, there is a favorite one which sup- 
poses the Hartz to be haunted with a kind of tutelar demon in 
the shape of a wild man, of huge stature, his head wreathed 
with oak-leaves, and his middle cinctured with the same, bear- 
ing in his hands a pine torn up by the roots. It is certain that 
many profess to have seen such a form, traversing, with huge 
strides, in a line parallel to their own course, the opposite ridge 
of a mountain, when divided from it by a narrow glen j and 
indeed the fact of the apparition is so generally admitted, that 
modern scepticism has only found refuge by ascribing it to 
optical deception." — (The Antiquary, vol. i. p. 249.) 

This optical deception admits of a simple explanation : 
"When the rising sun (and, according to analogy, the case 
will be the same at the setting) throws his rays over the 
Brocken upon the body of a man standing opposite to fine 
light clouds floating around or hovering past him, he needs 
only fix his eye steadily upon them, and in all probability he 
will see the singular spectacle of his own shadow, extending to 
the length of five or six hundred feet, at the distance of about 
two miles before him." — (Hibbert on Apparitions, p. 440, note. 
Brewster 's Letters on Natural Magic, Lett. 6.) In Mr. Gillies' 
tasteful collection of German stories there is a very interesting 
one, called The First of May ; or Walburga's Night. Goethe's 
little poem, called Die Harz-Reise, has no perceptible connec- 
tion with the Hartz. 

135. Through the stones, through the turf, brook and brookling 



274 



NOTES. 



hurry do?vn.] — Heine's description of the springs on the Blocks- 
berg exactly corresponds w th the poetical description : — 
" Here and there on rushes the water, silver-clear , trickles among 
the stones, and bathes the naked roots and fibres. Again, in 
many places, the water spouts more freely from out of rocks and 
roots, and forms little cascades. There is such a strange mur- 
muring and rustling — the birds sing broken snatches of lan- 
guishing songs — the trees whisper as with thousands of 
maidens' tongues ; as with thousands of maidens' eyes the 
rare mountain flowers gaze upon us, and stretch out towards 
us their singularly broad, conically forked leaves," &c. &c. 
(Reisebilder, vol. i. p. 173.) See also his account of the rise of 
the Use, p. 223. 

136. Tu-whit ! — tu-whoo !] — 

" ? T is the middle of night by the castle clock, 
And the owls have awakened the crowing cock. 
Tu-whit ! — tu-whoo ! " — (Christabel) 

137. And the roots, like snakes, <J-c] — Here again Heine's 
description corresponds : — "In consequence of the rocky na- 
ture of the ground, the roots are in many places unable to 
penetrate it, and wind, snake-like, over the huge blocks of 
granite, which lie scattered everywhere about, like huge play- 
balls, for the unearthly revellers to throw at each other on 
May- day night." 

138. It scatters itself at once.] — Shelley has translated verein- 
zelt sich — masses itself — probably under the notion of making 
the contrast more complete. But the next line — There sparks 
are glittering near, fyc. — shows clearly that the literal version 
is the proper one. 

139. How the storm-blast, fyc] — 

" And now the Storm-Blast came, and he 
Was tyrannous and strong ; 
He struck with his o'ertaking wings, 
And chased us south along." 

( The Rime of the Ajitient Mariner.) 



NOTES. 



275 



I shall give Adelung's explanation of Windsbraut i " Winds- 
braut, ein in Hochdeutschen veraltetes Wort, einen Sturm zu 
bezeichnen, welches nach Apost. 27. 14. vorkommt ; auch in 
der Schweiz und andern Oberdeutschen Gegenden iiblich ist." 
I subjoin the scriptural passage referred to : 

"Nicht lang aber darnach erhob sich wider ihr Yornehmen 
eine Windsbraut, die man nennete Nordost." — {German Bible.) 

"But not long after there arose against it a tempestuous 
wind, called Euroclydon." — {English Bible.) 

140. Sir Urian.] — This is a common name for the devil in 
Germany. Voland (post) is, I believe, one of the names of 
Beelzebub. 

141. The witch 5, the he-goat s.] — In Aristophanic 

language — the witch modarai, the he-goat xivapoa. 

142. By Ilsenstein.'] — Ilsenstein is a high granite rock on 
the Brocken, so called from the brook Use, which, according to 
tradition, was originally a princess. Felsensee (rock-lake) is 
another of the localities. 

143. For, in going to the house of the wicked one, woman is a 
thousand steps in advance.'] — " This princess was so far from being 
influenced by scruples, that she was as wicked as woman could 
be, which is not saying a little, for the sex pique themselves on 
their superiority in every competition." — (Vathek.) 

144. Make room, sweet people .] — Probably an allusion to your 
most sweet voices, in Coriolanus. 

145. Many a riddle must there be untied.'] — Some of the Ger- 
man critics express considerable disappointment that Goethe 
did not give these riddles with the devil's solution of them. 

146. Now that I ascend the witch-mountain for the last time.] — 
" And because the contradictions of life and thought have 
reached their highest pitch, but at the same time have found 
their end and solution, does Mephistopheles convince himself 
that he has ascended the Blocksberg for the last time." — (Ueber 
Goethe' 's Faust, Leipzig. ) 

18 



276 



NOTES. 



147. There is no dagger here, fyc] — I am inclined to think 
that Goethe must have read Burns' Tarn O'Shanter before 
writing this : — 

" Coffins stood round like open presses, 
That shaw'd the dead in their last dresses ; 
And by some devilish cantrip slight, 
Each in his cauld hand held a light, — 
By which heroic Tarn was able 
To note upon the haly table, 
A murderer's banes in gibbit airns • 
Twa span-lang, wee, unchristen'd bairns ; 
A thief, new cutted frae a rape, 
Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape ; 
Five tomahawks wi' bluid red-rusted ; 
Five scymitars, wi' murder crusted ; 
A garter, which a babe had strangled ; 
A knife, a father's throat had mangled, 
Whom his ain son o' life bereft, 
The gray hairs yet stack to the heft." 

Goethe's poem of Der Todtentanz, however, clearly preceded 
Tarn 0' Shanter. 

148. Lilith.] — I have received several suggestions as to 
Lilith. The following passage, (for which I have to thank Dr. 
Rosen,) extracted from Gesenius' Commentary on Isaiah, 
(Leipzig, 1821, 8vo. vol. i. p. 916,) is the fullest and most satis- 
factory : — 

" Lilith, (nocturna,) is, in the popular belief of the 

Hebrews, a female spectre in the shape of a finely-dressed 
woman, which, in particular, lies in wait for and kills children, 
like the Lamiae and Striges amongst the Romans. — (See Hor- 
ace, Art. Poet. 340 ; Ovid, Fast. vi. 123.) This is the Rabbini- 
cal account, and the superstition appears old, as it is to be 
found in the same form, and with little variation, amongst all 
other people. More recently they themselves have brought it 
into a kind of system, and turned Lilith into a wife of Adam's, 
on whom he begot demons, and who still has power to lie with 
men and kill children who are not protected by amulets, with 



NOTES. 



277 



which the Jews of a still later period supply themselves as a 
protection against her. — (S. Buxtorf, Lexicon. Talmudic. p. 
1140 - } Eisenmenger's Entdecktes Judenthum, vol. ii. p. 413, et 
seq.y See also Brown's Jewish Antiquities, vol. ii. p. 273. 

Burton tells us : " The Talmudists say that Adam had a wife 
called Lilis before he married Eve, and of her he begat nothing 
but devils." — (Anat. of Melancholy, Part 1, Sec. 2, Subsec. 2.) 

At the end of a learned etymological commentary on the 
word Lullaby, in the Encyclopaedia Metropolitana, I find the 
following mention of Lilith, quoted as a MS. note on Skinner: 
" Christiani quondam a Judaeis edocti, Dsemonem esse quan- 
dam maleficam, nomine Lilith, quae infantes recenter natos 
necare aut saltern supponere consuevit, atque adeo matrices 
infantibus dormitantibus cantilare solitas Lilla, abi, abi ! unde 
nostrum Lullaby." 

Herder, in his Dichtungen aus der Vorwelt, represents Adam 
as not marrying Eve until after Lilis had rejected him on 
account of his earthly extraction. 

Apropos of Lilith' s hair, I think it is Miss Letitia Hawkins 
who calls Eve an overgrown baby, with nothing to recommend 
her but her submission and her fine hair. 

149. ProcJctophantasmist.] — The person intended is now gen- 
erally understood to be Nicolai of Berlin, a writer who once 
enjoyed a considerable reputation in G-ermany, and through the 
medium of the Allgemeine Deutsche Bibliothek, a periodical work 
established by him about 1765, in cooperation with Lessing and 
Mendelsohn, exercised for nearly twenty years a widely-spread 
influence upon German literature. The severity of his criti- 
cisms, written in a cold, prosaic spirit, involved him in many 
disputes ; amongst others, with "Wieland, Fichte, Herder, La- 
vater, and Goethe. He had also given oifence to Goethe, by 
publishing a parody on The Sufferings of Werther, entitled 
"The Joys of Werter," in which Werther is made to shoot 
himself with a pistol loaded with chicken's blood, and recovers 
and lives happily. Goethe judiciously carried on the joke by 
writing a continuation, in which Werther, though alive, is 
represented as blinded by the blood, and bewailing his ill for- 



278 



NOTES. 



tune in not being able to see the beauties of Charlotte. Goethe 
says that his reply, though only circulated in manuscript, 
deprived Nicolai of all literary consideration. He speaks of 
him as a man of talent, but incapable of allowing merit in any- 
;hing which went, the least beyond his own contracted notions 
of excellence : — 

" Was schiert mich der Berliner Bann 
Geschmackler-Pfaffenwesen ! 
Und wer mich nicht verstehen kann 
Der lerne besser lesen." — (Goethe.) 
" To the very last," says Mr. Carlyle, " Nicolai never could 
persuade himself that there was anything in heaven or earth 
that was not dreamt of in his philosophy. He was animated with 
a fierce zeal against Jesuits ; in this, most people thought him 
partly right ; but when he wrote against Kant's philosophy, 
without comprehending it, and judged of poetry as he judged of 
Brunswick mum, by its utility, many people thought him 
wrong. A man of such spiritual habitudes is now by the Ger- 
mans called a PhilisteTj Philistine. Nicolai earned for himself 
the painful preeminence of being Erz- Philistine, Arch-Philis- 
tine." — (German Romance, vol. iv. p. 15.) 

In 1791, some causes which violently agitated his mind pro- 
duced such an effect on his nerves, that for several weeks he 
appeared to himself continually surrounded with phantoms, 
whom he distinctly knew, however, to be mere creations of his 
imagination. An account, of his malady, drawn up by the 
sufferer himself, is quoted by Dr. Hibbert, (Theory of Appari- 
tions,) and may be seen in Nicholson's Philosophical Journal, 
vol. vi. p. 161. Bleeding by leeches was one of the remedies 
resorted to ; this explains the subsequent allusion to them.- He 
died in 1811. 

One phrase put in the mouth of this character, es spukt in 
Tegel, has sadly puzzled both translators and commentators. 
Tegel is a small place, about eight or ten miles from Berlin. 
In the year 1799, the inhabitants of Berlin, who pride them- 
selves very highly on their enlightenment, were fairly taken in 
by the story of a ghost, said to haunt the dwelling of a Mr. 
Schulz, at Tegel. No less than two commissions of distin- 



NOTES. 



279 



guished persons set forth to investigate the character of the 
apparition. The first betook themselves to the house, on the 
13th of September, 1797, waited from eleven at night till one 
in the morning, heard a noise, and saw nothing. The second 
were more fortunate, for one of them rushed with such precipi- 
tation towards the place from whence the noise proceeded, that 
the ghost was under the necessity of decamping in a hurry, 
leaving the instruments with which he made the noise (very 
clumsy inartificial contrivances) as spolia opima to the con- 
querors. Thus began and ended the Tegel ghost's career, who, 
however, fully rivalled our Cock-lane ghost in celebrity, and 
gave rise to a good deal of controvers} r . This statement is 
taken from an account published in 1798, in 8vo, with the appro- 
priate motto : — " Parturiunt montes, nascetur ridiculus mus." 
Dr. Hitzig (to whom I am indebted for it) proposes the follow- 
ing interpretation : 

" We Berlin folks (enlightened by me Nicolai) are so wise, 
(so free from prejudice,) and Tegel is haunted notwithstanding, 
(we notwithstanding surfer our heads to be turned by a ghost 
story, so stupid as this of Tegel.") 

Shelley and M. Stapfer say Brocktophantasmist. This altera- 
tion destroys the etymology, which must be Uo^xrocj the part 
which (as is evident from the allusion to the leeches) is sup- 
posed to have a connection with his phantasies. 

150. A red mouse jumped out of her mouth.] — " The following 
incident occurred at a nobleman's seat, at Thuringen, about the 
beginning of the seventeenth century. The servants were 
paring fruit in the room, when a girl, becoming sleepy, left the 
others, and laid herself down, apart, but not far off, on a bank, 
to repose. After she had lain still a short time, a little red 
mouse crept out of her mouth, which was open. Most of the 
people saw it, and showed it to one another. The mouse ran 
hastily to the open window, crept through, and remained a 
short space without. A forward waiting maid, whose curiosity 
was excited by what she saw, spite of the remonstrances of the 
rest, went up to the inanimate maiden, shook her, and moved 
her to another place, a little further off, and then left her. 
Shortly afterwards the mouse returned, ran to the former 



280 



NOTES. 



familiar spot, where it had crept out of the maiden's mouth, ran 
up and down, as if it could not find its way and was at a loss 
what to do, and then disappeared. The maiden, however, was 
dead, and remained dead. The forward waiting-maid repented 
of what she had done in vain. In the same establishment, a 
lad had before then been often tormented by the sorceress, and 
could have no peace ; this ceased on the maiden's death. /,; — 
(Deutsche Sagen, No. 247.) 

The same work contains the story of two maidens who were 
accustomed to despatch their souls on evil errands in the shape 
of smoke, and the story of a maiden whose soul used to leave 
her in the shape of a cat (Nos. 248, 249) ; but I find nothing 
about a gray mouse. 

151. The Mood of man thickens at its chill look.] — 

" Her lips were red, her looks were free, 
Her locks were yellow as gold, 
Her skin was as white as leprosy, 
The Night-Mair Life-in-Death was she 
Who thicks man's blood with cold." 

(Coleridge. Rime of the Ancient Mariner.) 

The term Idol must be understood in the sense of Eidolon. 

152. As merry as in the Prater.] — Alluding to the well-known 
Prater of Vienna. 

153. When I find yon upon the Blocksberg.] — To wish a man 
upon the Blocksberg — Ich wunsche den Kerl auf dem Blocks- 
berg — is like wishing him to the devil, in English. This 
speech, therefore, has in G erman the effect of a pun. 

154. The Intermezzo.] — It is quite impossible to convey 
to the English reader more than a very faint notion of this 
scene. The effect is produced almost exclusively by satirical 
allusions, quaintly rhymed, to things and persons which are 
not generally known even in Germany itself; though no one 
who has ever witnessed the delight with which Germans belong- 
ing to the inner circle of educated society dwell upon it, can 



NOTES. 



281 



doubt that it possesses merit of a high order in its way. It is 
impossible to explain all the allusions, without rambling far 
beyond the limits of a note. I must, therefore, confine my- 
self to such particulars as admit of compression. 

The Midsummer Night's Dream and Wieland's Oberon have 
furnished the basis of the first seven or eight stanzas, and some 
of the last. 

Mieding, mentioned in the first couplet, was scene-painter to 
the Weimar Theatre. Goethe has immortalized him by a little 
poem on his death : — 

" Wie ! Mieding todt? erschallt bis unter's Dach 
Das hohle Haus, von Echo kehrt ein Ach ! 
Die Arbeit stockt, die Hand wird jedem schwer, 
Der Leim wird halt, die Farbe Jiiesst nicht mehrP 

There are other lines in the poem, however, which would rather 
lead me to suppose him stage-manager. He is mentioned by 
During (p. 198.) 

The Inquisitive Traveller is Nicolai j and the allusion to the 
stiff man, smelling after Jesuits, is to him. He had written 
Travels, full of the flattest, stalest, most unwearied and weary- 
ing denunciations of popery, and all things and persons asso- 
ciated in his imagination (if he had an imagination) therewith. 

I have been told that the words put into the mouth of the 
northern artist are intended as a quiz on the style of expression 
affected by the German artists of the day, but I rather think 
they allude to Goethe's own Italian Journey, which might be 
almost said to have revolutionized his mind. A distinguished 
German critic thinks that Fernow is the person alluded to. 

The Gods of Greece — Die Gbtter Griechenlands — is the title 
of a well-known poem of Schiller's, which somewhat scandal- 
ized the pious people of his day. Some useful notes upon it 
are contained in Klattowsky's Manual. 

The Purist is said to typify a school of critics who affected 
great zeal for purity of expression, and strict attention to cos- 
tume, upon the stage. 

The Xenien, as is well known, is the name given by Goethe 
and Schiller to verses, mostly satirical or epigrammatical, 
which they published from time to time in copartnership. 



282 IsOTES. 



These formed an important era in German literature. " A war 
of all the few good heads in the nation, with all the many bad 
ones, (says Mr. Carlyle,) began in Schiller's Musenalmanach for 
1793. The Xenien, (in another place he names the Horen along 
with them,) a series of philosophic epigrams jointly by Schiller 
and Goethe descended there unexpectedly, like a flood of ethe- 
rial fire, on the German literary world ; quickening all that was 
noble into new life, but visiting the ancient empire of dulness 
with astonishment and unknown pangs." The war might have 
been commenced in this manner, but the burden of maintaining 
it (as Mr. Carlyle himself half admits in another place # ) cer- 
tainly fell upon the Schlegels and Tieck, to whose admirable 
critical productions the Xenien bears about the same relation 
that the sharp-shooters bear to the regular army. 

The Genius of the Age and The Musaget were the names of 
literary journals edited by Hennings ; who was at different 
Times in controversy with the Schlegels, Schiller, and Goethe. 
Hennings is also attacked in the Xenien. One of Goethe's 
minor poems is entitled Die Musageten. 

The extent of the German Parnassus is an old joke. A few 
years since, it was computed that there were no less than four- 
teen thousand living authors in Germany. Goethe wrote a little 
poem entitled Deutscher Par?iass J in which he spiritedly apostro- 
phizes the invading crowd : 

" Ach, die Biische sind geknickt! 
Ach, die Blumen sind erstickt ! 
Von der Sohlen dieser Brut — 
"Wer begegnet ihrer Wuth ? " 

The Crane is said to mean Herder, but it is nowhere said 
why. 

To the best of my information, Irrlichter means parvenus: 
and Sternschnuppe a sort of poetical Icarus, who mounts like a 
rocket and comes down like the stick. Most of the other allu- 
sions refer to well-known classes in society, or to certain sects 
or schools in metaphysical philosophy. 

M. de Schlegel told me that the allusions in the Intermezzo 



# German Romance, vol. ii. p. 8. 



NOTES. 



283 



were not present to his memory, and rinding that it would cost 
him some trouble to recover the train. I did not press my request 
for an explanation of them, though his very interesting letter 
on Goethe's Triumph der Empfindsamkeit, addressed to M. de 
Remusat, and published in the third volume of the Theatre 
AUemand, was a powerful temptation. The first paragraph of 
this letter may help to explain why it is so very difficult to write 
notes upon Goethe ; — " J'ai vecu quelques annees pres de 
Goethe (says M. de Schlegel) lorsqu'il etait dans la force de 
Fage et dans la maturite de son genie ; j'ai souvent passe des 
journees entieres avec lui, et nous avons beaucoup cause sur 
ses ouvrages ; mais il n'aimait guere a donner des explica- 
tions, comme aussi il n'a jamais voulu faire des prefaces." 

M. Varnhagen von Ense tells me that many more verses 
were originally composed for the Intermezzo, but suppressed. 

Goldene Hochzeit means the fiftieth anniversary of a marriage ; 
Silberne Hochzeit, the twenty-fifth. 

155. Sentence-passing, unfeeling man.] — 

" plead 

With famine, or wind-walking pestilence, 
Blind lightning, or the deaf sea, not with man ! 
Cruel, cold, formal man." — (Shelley, The Cenci.) 

156. To roll before the feet, $-c] — This alludes to a preva- 
lent superstition, that evil spirits will sometimes place them- 
selves in the path of a foot-passenger, in the shape of a dog or 
other animal, with the view of tripping him up and springing 
upon him when down. Thus Caliban, in allusion to the spirits 
set upon him by Prospero : — 

" Some time like apes, that moe and chatter at me, 
And after, bite me ; then like hedgehogs, which 
Lie tumbling in my bare-foot way." 

(Tempest, Act ii. sc. 2.) 

157. What are they working — about the Ravenstone yonder ?] 
— Retzsch's outline represents a raised stone mound or platform, 
with a gallows at one end and a gibbet for hanging in chains at 



284 



NOTES. 



the other. Witches and skeletons are about, upon, and over 
it, apparently engaged in some unhallowed rite. Faust is 
pointing it out to Mephistopheles with a look of interrogation, 
which Mephistopheles answers by a grim sneer. The Eaben- 
stein is so called because ravens are often seen hovering round 
it. It is hardly necessary to add that this vision, as well as 
that of Margaret with fettered feet at the end of the scene upon 
the Brocken, are intended as forebodings of her fate. 

158. And her crime was a good delusion.'] — 

" Wehe ! — menschlich hat diess Herz empfunden ! 
Und Empfindung soli mein Richtschwert seyn ! 
Wen' ! vom Arm des falschen Mann's umwunden 
Schleif Luisen's Tugend ein." — (Schiller.) 

159. My mother, the whore, $c] — This song is founded on 
a popular German story, to be found in the Kinder -und Haus- 
Marchen of the distinguished brothers Grimm, under the title 
of Van den Machandel-Boom, and in the English selection from 
that work (entitled German Popular Stories) under the title of 
The Juniper Tree. — The wife of a rich man, whilst standing 
under a juniper tree, wishes for a little child as white as snow 
and as red as blood; and on another occasion expresses a wish 
to be buried under the juniper when dead. Soon after, a little 
boy, as white as snow and as red as blood, is born ; the mother 
dies of joy at beholding it, and is buried according to her wish. 
The husband marries again, and has a daughter. The second 
wife, becoming jealous of the boy, murders him, and serves 
him up at table for the unconscious father to eat. The father 
finishes the whole dish, and throws the bones under the table. 
The little girl, who is made the innocent assistant in her 
mother's villany, picks them up, ties them in a silk handker- 
chief, and buries them under the juniper tree. The tree begins 
to move its branches mysteriously, and then a kind of cloud 
rises from it, a fire appears in the cloud, and out of the fire 
comes a beautiful bird, which flies about singing the following 
song : — 

" Min Moder de mi slacht't, 
Min Yader de mi att, 



NOTES. 



285 



Min Swester de Marleenken 
Socht alle mine Beeniken, 
Un bindt sie in een syden Dook, 
Legts unner den Machandelboom • 
Kywitt ! Kywitt ! ach watt en schon Vagel bin ieh? " 
The literal translation would be — 
My mother who slew me, 
My father who ate me. 
My sister Mary Anne 
Gathers all my bones 

And binds them up in a silk handkerchief, 

Lays them under the juniper tree. 

Kywitt ! Kywitt ! ah, what a beautiful bird am I. 

It will be doing an acceptable service to those who love to 
trace poetical analogies, to remind them of Wordsworth's 
exquisite little poem of Ruth : — 

" God help thee, Ruth ! Such pains she had 
That she in half a year was mad, 
And in a prison housed ; 
And there she sung tumultuous songs, 
By recollection of her wrongs, 
To fearful passion roused." 

1G0. I was fair j too, and that was my undoing.'] — - 

" Trauet nicht den Rosen eurer Jugend, 
Trauet, Schwestern, Mannerschwiiren nie ! 
Schonheit war die Falle meiner Tugend 
Auf der Richstatt hier verfluch' ich sie ! " 

(Schiller.) 

Most readers will recollect Filicaja's sonnet, and the beautiful 
stanzas in Childe Harold founded on it : — 

" Italia ! oh Italia ! thou who hast 
The fatal gift of beauty » 

(Canto 4, Stanza 42 and 43.) 

" Yet Vane could tell what ills from beauty spring, 
And Sedley cursed the form that pleased a king." 

(Johnson, Vanity of Human Wishes.) 



286 



NOTES. 



161. Let what is past, be past.] ' — 

" Oh Mutter ! Mutter ! Hin ist Kin ! 
Veiioren ist verloren ! 
Der Tod, der Tod ist mein Gewinn, 
war' ieh nie geboren ! " 

(Burger, Lenore.) 

162. Keep the path up by the brook — over the bridge — into 
the wood — to the left where the plank is.] — 

" Half-breathless from the steep hill's edge 
They tracked the footmarks small j 
And through the broken hawthorn-hedge. 
And by the long stone wall. 

And then an open field they crossed : 
The marks were still the same : 
They tracked them on, nor ever lost ; 
And to the bridge ihey came. 

They followed from the snowy bank 
Those footmarks, one by one, 
Into the middle of the plank : 
And further there were none ! " 

(Wordsworth, Lucy Gray.) 

163. The staff breaks.] — The signal for the executioner to 
do his duty, is given by the breaking of a wand or staff. 

164. The Mood-scat.] — " This alludes to the German custom 
of tying the unfortunate female that is to be beheaded on a 
wooden chair. Males on such melancholy occasions are kneel- 
ing on a little heap of sand." — (Boileau's Remarks, p. 19.) 

I am informed that both males and females are tied in the 
same manner. 

165. Ye Holy Hosts, range yourselves round about to guard 
vie,] — 

" Save me, and hover o'er me with your wings, 
Ye heavenly guards ! " 

(Hamlet, Act 3, sc. 4.) 



NOTES. 



287 



166. She is judged.'] — Some difference of opinion prevails 
as to the concluding sentences of this scene. The more poetical 
interpretation is, that Margaret dies after pronouncing the last 
words assigned to her • that the judgment of Heaven is pro- 
nounced upon her as her spirit parts ; that Mephistopheles 
announces it in his usual sardonic and deceitful style ; that the 
voice frow above makes known its real purport j and that the 
voice from within, dying away, is Margaret's spirit calling to her 
lover on its way to heaven, whilst her body lies dead upon the 
stage. This is the only mode in which the voice from within, 
dying away, can be accounted for. M. de Schlegel, however, 
certainly the highest living authority on such matters, says : 
" Sie ist gerichtet, se rapporte a, la sentence de mort prononcee 
par les juges ; les mots suivants, Sie ist gerettet, au salut de son 
ame." It has been contended that Sie i\% gerichtet refers both 
to the judgment in heaven and to the judgment upon earth. 
As to the translation of the passage, no doubt can well exist, 
for richten is literally to judge, and is constantly used in the 
precise sense . the above interpretation attributes to it ; for in 
stance, Die Lebendigen und die Todten zu richten, to judge the 
quick and the dead. 

The expressions used in the concluding scene of the old 
puppet drama of Faust may be referred to in support of this 
interpretation. (See post, Appendix 2.) 



APPENDIX. 



APPENDIX, NO. I. 

CONTAINING 

AN ABSTRACT 

OF 

THE SECOND PART OF FAUST, 

AND SOME ACCOUNT OF 

THE CIRCUMSTANCES UNDER WHICH IT WAS COMPOSED. 



The heading, or stage direction, of the first scene is — a A 
pleasant country — Faust bedded upon flowery turf, tired, rest- 
less, endeavoring to sleep — Twilight — a circle of spirits hov- 
ering round, graceful little forms." Ariel opens it with a song, 
accompanied by JEolian harps • the other spirits form a chorus, 
and Faust gives voice to the emotions which the rising sun, 
(very beautifully described) awakens in him. 

The next scene is laid in the emperor's court — what emperor, 
does not appear. He is seated in full pomp upon his throne, 
surrounded by all his officers of state, to whom he condescend- 
ingly addresses himself: u I greet my true, my loving subjects, 
congregated from far and near ■ I see the sage (meaning the 
astrologer) at my side, but where tarries the fool ? " The fool, 
it seems, has just been carried out drunk or in a fit, most prob- 
ably by the contrivance of Mephistopheles, who instantly steps 
forward in his place and proposes a riddle to his majesty. Me 
puts it aside with the remark, that riddles are for his council, 
and only (it is to be inferred) simple, unadulterated folly for 
himself. The new fool, however, is regularly installed ; the 
emperor opens the conference, and all the high officers give their 
19 



292 



APPENDIX. 



opinions upon the existing state of the realm, than which noth- 
ing can well be worse. The chancellor complains of the neg- 
lect of the laws, the commander-in-chief of the insubordination 
of the army, the marshal of the household of the waste in the 
kitchen, and the first lord of the treasury expatiates on the 
empty state of his coffers, the grand source of all the other evils. 
The emperor, sorely puzzled, reflects a moment, and then turns 
to the fool, or rather to Mephistopheles, disguised as such : 
'•'Speak, fool, dost thou too know of no matter of complaint?" 
Mephistopheles replies in the negative, and expresses his aston- 
ishment that anything should be wanting w T here so much glitter- 
ing splendor was to be seen. This calls forth a murmur from 
the courtiers, and Mephistopheles is made the subject of a fair 
share ®£ insinuation and abuse j but he proceeds notwithstand- 
ing, and develops his plan, which is, to begin digging for sub- 
terraneous treasures immediately as all such, he observes, be- 
long of right to the emperor. This plan is generally approved 
by all but the chancellor, who does not think it in exact accord- 
ance with religion ; and the emperor himself declares his inten- 
tion of laying aside his sword and sceptre, and setting to work 
in his own proper person immediately. The astrologer, how- 
ever, calls upon them to mitigate their zeal, and first finish the 
celebration of the approaching carnival. The emperor assents, 
and gives the word for a general rejoicing accordingly j the 
trumpets sound, and exeunt omnes but Mephistopheles, who con- 
cludes the scene with a sneer : " How desert and good fortune 
are linked together, this never occurs to fools : if they had the 
stone of the philosopher, they would want the philosopher for 
the stone." 

The subject of the next scene is a mask got up by Faust for 
the amusement of the emperor, irregular and extravagant in 
the extreme. Gardeners, flower-girls, olive-branches, rose-buds, 
fishermen, bird-catchers, wood-hewers, parasites, satirists, the 
Graces, the Parcse, the Furies, Fear, Hope, Prudence, Zoilo- 
Thersites, Pan, Plutus, Fauns, Gnomes, Satyrs, Nymphs, are 
amongst the things and persons which come forward in the 
course of the entertainment. The verses placed in their mouths 
are often very beautiful, but appear to have no reference to a 
plot. There is also some clever general satire. The scene 



APPENDIX. 



293 



closes, like most of our melodrames, with a general blaze, which 
is also described with great spirit by the herald. 

The next scene is in one of the palace pleasure-gardens, 
where the court is found assembled as before, and the emperor 
is represented thanking Faust for the mask, and congratulating 
himself on having discovered such a treasure of a man. Their 
converse is suddenly interrupted by the entrance of the marshal 
of the household, the commander-in-chief and the lord-treasurer, 
to announce that all their distresses have been suddenly re- 
moved by the creation of an odd sort of paper-money, bills 
promising payment in the emperor's name, when the subter- 
ranean treasure before mentioned shall be dug up. The circu- 
lation of this paper appears to have produced nearly the same 
effect in the emperor's dominions as the South Sea scheme in 
England, or Law's project in France, which, we presume, it 
must be intended to ridicule. The people are represented as 
running absolutely wild at their fancied accession of wealth, 
and the emperor amuses himself by bestowing portions of it 
on the followers of his court, on condition of their declaring 
what use they intend to make of what they receive. The hu- 
mor thus elicited does not rise beyond common-place. One 
says that he will lead a merry life upon it ; a second, that he 
will buy chains and rings for his sweetheart j a third has a 
fancy for good wine ; and a fourth for sausages ; a fifth proposes 
to redeem his mortgages, and a sixth to add it to his hoard. 
The fool comes last, and might well have been expected to say 
something sharp, but he simply avows a wish to become a land- 
holder, and yet is complimented by Blephistopheles on his wit. 
Faust and Mephistopheles are then represented walking in a 
dark gallery, whither Faust has withdrawn Mephistopheles to 
procure the means of exhibiting Helen and Paris before the 
emperor, to whom he has pledged his word to that effect. Me- 
phistopheles answers at first evasively ; he has nothing (he 
says) to do with the heathen world, they live in a hell of their 
own j there is one mode, however ; — Faust must repair to cer- 
tain goddesses called, par eminence, The Mothers, # dwelling in 

* I have never yet met with any one who could tell me what Die Mutter 
means. 



294 



APPENDIX. 



the deepest recesses of unearthly solitudes, through which he 
is to be guided by a key bestowed for that purpose by Mephis- 
topheles. Faust shudders at the name, but undertakes the ad- 
venture, and sets out. 

The following scene represents the assembling of the court ; 
Mephistopheles cures a blonde beauty of freckles, and a brunette 
of lameness, and bestows a love-potion on a third j after which 
exploits, we proceed to the grand hall, where the emperor and 
his suite are awaiting the arrival of Faust for the promised 
spectacle to begin. He appears at last, emerging as it were from 
the stage ; he is dressed in sacrificial robes, and a tripod accom- 
panies him. By the aid of the Mothers, and the application of 
a charmed key which he has with him, he brings first Paris and 
then Helen upon the stage. For a time, all goes on well, and 
we are amused by the remarks of the courtiers, male and fe- 
male, on the beauty and her lover, when, on Paris' behaving 
with something like rudeness to Helen, Faust gets jealous and 
interferes. An explosion is heard, the spirits ascend in vapor, 
and Faust, prostrated by the shock, is borne oil senseless by 
Mephistopheles. 

So ends the first act. At the commencement of the second, 
we find Faust laid on. an old-fashioned bed in his old study, 
with Mephistopheles attending him. " He whom Helen par- 
alyzes (says the latter) comes not easily to his senses again." 
From a conversation between Mephistopheles and an attendant, 
it appears that, ever since Faust's disappearance, Wagner has 
lived on in his house, and has now attained to almost as great a 
reputation as his master. At the opening of the scene he has 
been long busied in his laboratory, endeavoring, like another 
Frankenstein, to discover the principle of life. To make the 
train of old associations complete, the Student, now a Bachelor, 
enters, and thus affords us an opportunity of seeing how far he 
has profited by Mephistopheles' advice. It seems that he has 
become a convert to Idealism, and he makes a speech in which 
Fichte's system is quizzed. 

After this dialogue we are conducted into "Wagner's labora- 
tory, who has just succeeded in manufacturing an Homunculus, 
a clever little imp, incarcerated in a bottle, bearing a strong re- 
semblance to the Devil upon two Sticks. He is introduced appar- 



APPENDIX. 



295 



ently to act as a guide to the Classical Walpurgis Night j Me- 
phistopheles, as has been already intimated, having no juris- 
diction over the heathen world. Of this Classical Walpurgis 
Night itself, which occupies the next sixty or seventy pages, it 
is quite impossible to give anything like a regular description or 
analysis j though the readers of the First Part of Faust may form 
some notion of it, on being told, that it is formed upon pretty 
nearly the same plan as the wilder part of the scenes upon the 
Blocksberg, with the difference that all the characters are clas- 
sical. The number of these is prodigious. Besides monsters 
of various sorts, we find Erichtho, the Sphynx, the Sirens, the 
Pigmies, the Nymphs, Chiron, talking Dactyls, Lamise, Anax- 
agoras, Thales, Dryas, Phorkyas, Nereids, Tritons, Nereus, 
Proteus, and many other less familiar names, which it would be 
wearisome to recapitulate, all scattering apophthegms or allu- 
sions at random, with (we say it with all humility) very little 
immediate fitness or point. 

The Helena, which in some sense may be considered a part 
of the Classical Walpurgis Night, follows, and forms the third 
act of the continuation.* 

Helen enters upon the stage (before the palace of Menelaus, 
at Sparta) accompanied by a chorus of captive Trojan women. 
From her opening speech, it appears that she has just landed 
with her lord, who has sent her on before, and is expected to 
follow immediately. She has been directed to prepare all things 
for a sacrifice, but, on entering the palace for this purpose, she 
encounters an apparition in the shape of a gigantic old woman, 
who, before Helen has well done relating what she had seen to 
the chorus, comes forth in propria persona. This is Phorkyas, 
who begins by upbraiding Helen, and gets into a not very edi- 
fying squabble with her maids. But the main object is to 
frighten them away ; with this view Phorkyas plays on Helen's 
fears by suggesting, that, amidst all the required preparations 
for the sacrifice, nothing had yet transpired as to the intended 
victim, and that the victim was most probably herself. It is 
further intimated that the chorus had nothing very pleasing to 

* bee an Article in the Foreign Review, vol. i. p. 429, by Mr. Carlyle, for a 
full account of the Helena. 



296 APPENDIX. 

look forward to, and Menelaus' treatment of Deiphobus, whose 
nose and ears he cropped, is considerately alluded to in illustra- 
tion of the Spartan chief's mode of dealing with his enemies. 
The plan succeeds, and the Queen consents to fly to a neighbor- 
ing country of barbarians, described in glowing colors by 
Phorkyas. Instantly clouds veil the scene, w T hich shifts to the 
inner court of a town, surrounded by rich fantastic buildings of 
the middle ages. She is here received by Faust, the lord of the 
place, who appears dragging along one Lynceus, his watchman, 
in chains, for not giving due notice of the beauty's approach. 
Lynceus excuses himself in fine flowing verse, and receives his 
pardon as a matter of course. Faust makes good use of his 
time, and is rapidly growing into high favor with Helen, when 
Phorkyas rushes in with the tidings that Menelaus, with all his 
army, is at hand. Faust starts up to encounter the enemy, but, 
instead of being turned into a battle-field, the scene changes 
into a beautiful Arcadian landscape, set round with leafy bowers, 
amongst which Faust and Helen contrive to lose themselves for 
a time. Whilst they are out of sight, Phorkyas converses with 
the chorus, and, amongst other topics, describes to them a beau- 
tiful Cupid-like sort of boy, called Euphorion, who directly 
afterwards comes forward with Helen and Faust. This young- 
ster, after exhorting by turns all the party to merriment, and 
behav r ing with some rudeness to one of the young ladies of the 
chorus, who, out of sheer modesty, vanishes into air, springs 
upon a high rock, talks wildly about battles and warlike fame, 
and finishes by bounding up into the air, through wmich he 
darts like a rocket, with a stream of brightness in his train, 
leaving his clothes and lyre upon the ground. The act now 
hurries to a conclusion ; Helen bids Faust farewell, and throws 
herself into his arms to give him a farewell kiss, but the cor- 
poreal part of her vanishes, and only her veil and vest remain 
in his embrace. These, however, also dissolve into clouds, 
which encircle Faust, lift him up on high, and finally fly 
away with him. Phorkyas picks up Euphorion's clothes and 
lyre, and seats herself by a pillar in front of the stage. The 
leader of the chorus, supposing her to be gone for good and all, 
exhorts the chorus to avail themselves of the opportunity of re 
turning to Hades, which they decline, saying, that as they have 



APPENDIX. 297 

been given back to" the light of the day, they prefer remaining 
there, though at the same time well aware that they are no 
longer to be considered as persons. One part profess an inten- 
tion of remaining as Hamadryads, living among and having 
their being in trees j a second propose to exist as echoes ; a 
third, to be the animating spirits of brooks; and a fourth, to 
take up their abode in vineyards. After this declaration of 
their respective intentions, the curtain falls, and Phorkyas, lay- 
ing aside the mask and veil, comes forward in his or her real 
character of Mephistopheles, "to comment (this is the stage 
direction) so far as might be necessary, in the way of epilogue, 
on the piece." 

The fourth act is conversant with more familiar matters, but 
its bearing on the main action is equally remote. The scene is 
a high mountain. A cloud comes down and breaks apart j 
Faust steps forth and soliloquizes ; a seven-mile boot walks up ; 
then another , then Mephistopheles ; upon whose appearance 
the boots hurry off, and we see and hear no more of them. A 
dialogue takes place between Faust and Mephistopheles, in the 
course of which it appears that Faust has formed some- new 
desire, which he tells Mephistopheles to guess. He guesses 
empire, pleasure, glory, but it is none of them ; Faust has 
grown jealous of the daily encroachments of the sea, and his 
wish is step by step to shut it out. Just as this wish is uttered, 
the sound of trumpets is heard 5 the cause is explained by 
Mephistopheles. Our old friend, the emperor, is advancing to 
encounter a rival, whom his ungrateful subjects have set up. 
Mephistopheles proposes to Faust to aid him and gain from his 
gratitude the grant of a boundless extent of strand for their 
experiment, to which Faust apparently consents. Three spirits 
are called up by Mephistopheles. in the guise of armed men,* 
to assist. Faust joins the emperor's army, and proffers him the 
aid of his men. The fight commences and is won by the magi- 
cal assistance, of Faust. Some of the changes of the battle are 
sketched with great force and spirit, as seen from the rising 
ground, where the emperor, Faust, and Mephistopheles are 



* See Samuel, b. ii. ch. 23, 7. 8 — 13. 



298 



APPENDIX. 



witnessing it. # The last scene of the act is laid in the rebel 
emperor's tent, where several plunderers are busily engaged 
until disturbed by the entrance of the victorious emperor, with 
four of his chiefs, each of whom he rewards with some post of 
honor. Then enters an archbishop, who reproaches the em- 
peror for leaguing himself with sorcerers, and succeeds in 
extorting a handsome endowment for the church. 

The first scene of the fifth and last act represents an aged 
couple (Baucius and Philemon by name) extending their hos- 
pitality to a stranger. From a few words which drop from 
them, it appears that their cottage stands in the way of Faust's 
improvements, and that, Ahab-like, he has already manifested 
an undue eagerness to possess himself of it. The next scene 
represents a palace, with an extensive pleasure-garden and a 
large canal. Faust appears in extreme old age, and plunged 
in thought. The subject of his meditations is the cottage of 
the old couple, which " comes him cramping in," and spoils 
the symmetry of his estate. A richly laden vessel arrives, but 
the cargo fails to soothe him ; the little property which he does 
not possess would imbitter, he says, the possession of a world. 
All is now deep night, and Lynceus the watchman is on his 
tower, when a fire breaks out in the cottage of the old couple. 
Mephistopheles, with three sailors belonging to the vessel, has 
set fire to the cottage, and the old couple perish in the confla- 
gration. Without any immediate connection with the foregoing 
incidents, four gray old women are brought upon the stage — 
Guilt, Want, Care, and Misery — and hold an uninteresting 
conversation with Faust. Yv r e have then Mephistopheles acting 
as overseer to a set of workmen (earthly as well as unearthly, 
it would seem,) employed in consummating Faust's wish of 
limiting the dominion of the waves. I shall give Faust's dying 
words literally : . m 
Faust. 

"A marsh extends along the mountain's foot, infecting all 

* There is hardly a description of any sort in the poem which is not placed 
in the mouth of some one looking down from a commanding point of view 
upon the scene. This was Sir Walter Scott's favorite mode of describing. 
Several instances are enumerated in Mr. L. Adolphus' delightful letters on 
the author of Waverley, p. 242. 



APPENDIX. 



299 



that is already won : to draw off the noisome pool — the last 
would be the crowning success j I lay open a space for many 
millions to dwell upon, not safely, it is true, but in free activ- 
ity j the plain, green and fruitful j men and flocks forthwith 
made happy on the newest soil, forthwith settled on the mound's 
firm base, which the eager industry of the people has thrown 
up. Here within, a land like Paradise ; there without, the flood 
may rage up to the brim, and, as it nibbles powerfully to shoot 
in, the community throngs to close up the openings. Yes, 
heart and soul am I devoted to this wish ; this is the last re- 
solve of wisdom. He only deserves freedom and life,, who is 
daily compelled to conquer them for himself; and thus here, 
hemmed round by danger, bring childhood, manhood, and old 
age, their well-spent years to a close. I would fain see such a 
busy multitude, — stand upon free soil with free people. I 
might then say to the moment — 1 Stay, thou art so fair ! ' The 
trace of my earthly days cannot perish in centuries. In the 
presentiment of such exalted bliss, I now enjoy the most exalted 
moment. 

(Faust sinks back ; the Lemures take him up and place him 
upon the ground.) 

Mephistopheles. 
No pleasure satisfies him, no happiness contents him ; so he 
is ever in pursuit of changing forms ; the last, the worst, the 
empty moment, the poor one wishes to hold it fast. He who 
withstood me so vigorously ! Time has obtained the mastery j 
here lies the graybeard in the dust ! The clock stands still ! 

Chorus. 

Stands still ! It is as silent as midnight. The index hand 
falls." 

The angels descend, and a contest ensues between them and 
Mephistopheles, backed by his devils, for the soul of Faust. It 
is eventually won by the angels, who succeed by exciting the 
passions and so distracting the attention of Mephistopheles. 
They fly off, and he is left soliloquizing thus : — 
Mephistopheles (looking round.) 

" But how? whither are they- gone? Young as you are, 



300 



APPENDIX. 



you have over-reached me. They have flown heavenwards 
with the booty ; for this they have "been nibbling at this grave ! 
A great singularly precious treasure has been wrested from me ; 
the exalted soul which had pledged itself to me, this have they 
cunningly smuggled away from me. To whom must I now 
complain? Who will regain my fairly won right for me? 
Thou art cheated in thy old days j thou hast deserved it j 
matters turn out fearfully ill for thee. I have scandalously 
mismanaged matters ; a great outlay, to my shame, is thrown 
away ; common desire, absurd amorousness, take possession of 
the out-pitched devil. And if the old one, with all the wisdom 
of experience, has meddled in this childish, silly business, in 
truth, it is no small folly which possesses him at the close." 

The last scene is headed — "Mountain defiles — Forest — 
Rock — Desert." The characters introduced are Anchorites, 
Fathers, Angels, and a band of female Penitents, amongst 
whom we recognize Margaret rejoicing over the salvation of 
Faust. The verses placed in their mouths are often very beau- 
tiful, but have little connection with each other, and no reference 
to a plot. 

I will now add what has transpired as to the circumstances 
under which the continuation was composed. The first scene 
(down to p. 63 of the original) and the whole of the third act 
(the Helena) were published during Goethe's lifetime, in the 
last complete edition of his works. His views in publishing 
the Helena were explained in the Kunst und Alterthum by him- 
self. The following extract applies to the general plan of the 
continuation : "I could not but wonder that none of those who 
undertook a continuation and completion of my Fragments (the 
First Part) had lighted upon the thought seemingly so obvious, 
that the composition of a Second Part must necessarily elevate 
itself altogether away from the hampered sphere of the First, 
and conduct a man of such a nature into higher regions, under 
worthier circumstances. How I, for my part, had determined 
to essay this, lay silently before my own mind from time to 
time, exciting me to some progress ; while from all and each 
I carefully guarded my secret, still in hope of bringing the 
work to the wished-for issue." 



APPENDIX. 



301 



I am also enabled to state in his own words the manner in 
which this wished-for issue was brought about : 

u I have now arranged the Second Part of Faust, which, 
during the last four years, I have taken up again in earnest, 
filled up chasms and connected together the matter I had ready 
by me, from beginning to end. 

"I hope I have succeeded in obliterating all dirle re nee be- 
tween Earlier and Later. 

u I have known for a longtime what I wanted, and even 
how I wanted it, and have borne it about within me for so 
many years as an inward tale of wonder — but I only exe- 
cuted portions which from time to time peculiarly attracted me. 
The Second Part, then, must not and could not be so fragmen- 
tary as the First. The reason has more claim upon it, as has 
been seen in the part already printed. It has indeed at last 
required a most vigorous determination to work up the whole 
together in such a manner that it could stand before a cultivated 
mind. I, therefore, made a firm resolution that it should be 
finished before my birthday. And so it was ; the whole lies 
before me, and I have only trifles to alter. And thus I seal it 
up ; and then it may increase the specific gravity of my suc- 
ceeding volumes, be they what they may. 

" If it contains problems enough, (inasmuch as, like the his- 
tory of man, the last solved problem ever produces a new one 
to solve,) it will nevertheless please those who understand by a 
gesture, a wink, a slight indication. They will find in it more 
than I could give. 

" And thus is a heavy stone now rolled over the summit of 
the mountain, and down on the other side. Others, however, 
still lie behind me, which must be pushed onwards, that it may 
be fulfilled which was written, ' Such labor hath God appointed 
to man.' " — (Letter to Meyer, dated Weimar, July 20th, 1831.) 

I copy this from Mrs. Austin's Characteristics, in which two 
other interesting passages, relating to the same subject, occur. 
The following is translated from the Bibliotheque TJniverselle, 
of Geneva : — 

" Having once secured complete tranquillity on this head, (his 
will,) Goethe resumed his usual habits, and hastened to put the 
last hand to his unpublished works j either to publish them 



302 



APPENDIX. 



himself, if Heaven should grant him two or three years more 
of life, or to put them in a condition to be intrusted to an editor, 
without burdening him with the responsibility of the correc- 
tions. He began with the most pressing. The Second Part of 
Faust was not finished ; Helena, which forms the third act, had 
been composed more than thirty years before, with the excep- 
tion of the end. which is much more recent, and which certainly 
does not go back further than 1825. The two preceding acts 
had just been finished — there remained the two last. Goethe 
composed the fifth act first j then, but a few weeks before his 
death, he crowned his work by the fourth. This broken man- 
ner of working was, perhaps, not always his ; but it is explained 
in this case by the care he took to conceive his plan entire 
before he began to execute it ; to reflect upon it, sometimes for 
a long series of years, and to work out sometimes one part, 
sometimes another, according to the inspiration of the moment. 
He reserved to himself the power of binding together these 
separate members in a final redaction — of bringing them 
together by the necessary transitions, and of throwing out all 
that might injure the integrity of the poem. Thus it happens 
that in the manuscripts relating to Faust, there are found a great 
number of poems, written at different periods, which could not 
find place in the drama, but which we hope may be published 
in the miscellaneous works." — (Characteristics of Goethe, vol. 
iii. pp. 87, 88.)* 

The Chancellor von Muller, in his excellent little work en- 
titled Goethe in seiner PraHischen Wirhsamkeit, thus describes 
the conclusion of Faust, and (what is not less interesting) the 
events immediately preceding it : — 

*This account is confirmed by Falk's story of the Walburgis Sack ; and 
also by the following anecdote, communicated to me in a private letter 
by M. de Schlegel : — " Ce poeme, d£s son origine, etait condamn£ & ne rester 
qu'un fragment. Mais quoiqu'on juge de l'ensemble, les details sont admir- 
ables. Ceci me rappeile une anecdote que je tiens du cel£bre m£d£cin Zim- 
merman, fort li£ avec Goethe dans sa jeunesse; Fauste avait £te" annonce" 
de bonne heare, et l'on s'attendait alors a le voir paraitre prochainement. 
Zimmerman, se trouvant a Weimar, demanda a son ami des nouvelles de 
cette composition. Goethe apporta un sac rempli de petits chiffons de 
papier. II le vuida sur la table et dit : 1 Voila mon Fauste.' ;) 



appendix;. 



303 



"When Goethe had to bear the death of his only son, he 
wrote to Zelter thus : — * Here, then, can the mighty con- 
ception of duty alone hold us erect. I have no other care 
than to keep myself in equipoise. The body must, the spirit 
will ; — and he who sees a necessary path prescribed to his will, 
has no need to ponder much.' 

" Thus did he shut up the deepest grief within his breast, and 
hastily seized upon a long-postponed labor, ( in order entirely 
to lose himself in it.' In a fortnight, he had nearly completed 
the fourth volume of his life, when nature avenged herself for 
the violence he had done her ; the bursting of a blood-vessel 
brought him to the brink of the grave. 

" He recovered surprisingly, and immediately made use of 
his restored health to put his house most carefully in order ) 
made all his testamentary dispositions as to his works and 
manuscripts, with perfect cheerfulness, and earnestly em- 
ployed himself in fully making up his account with the world. 

" But in looking over his manuscripts it vexed him to leave 
his Faust unfinished j the greater part of the fourth act of the 
Second Part was wanting j he laid it down as a law to himself 
to complete it worthily, and, on the day before his last birth- 
day, he was enabled to announce that the highest task of his 
life was completed. He sealed it under a tenfold sea], escaped 
from the congratulations of friends, and hastened to revisit, 
after many, many years, the scene of his earliest cares and 
endeavors, as well as of the happiest and richest hours of his 
life.' 7 

In relation to my Article on the Second Part of Faust, in the 
Foreign Quarterly Review, (in which most of the foregoing 
abstract, interspersed with translated specimens, appeared,) 
some of my German friends blamed me for not putting in the 
plea of age for the author. I have done this most effectually 
now; and the pleas of sickness and sorrow might also be sup- 
ported, if necessary. Indeed, after reading the above extracts, 
the wonder is, not that symptoms of decaying power are here 
and there discernible, but that the poem, under such circum- 
stances, should have been completed at all ; and we may well 
say of Faust and its author, (as Longinus said of Homer and 



304 



APPENDIX. 



the Odyssey,) though the work of an old man, it is yet the work 
of an old Goethe. 

Another set have censured me for my sceptical and superfi- 
cial notions of the plot, which is said to hide a host of mean- 
ings. My only answer is, that I cannot see them, and have 
never yet met with any one who could, though I studied the 
poem under circumstances peculiarly favorable to the discovery. 
None of the German critics, to the best of my information, have 
yet dived deeper than myself; the boldest merely venture to 
suggest that Faust's salvation or justification, without any 
apparent merit of his own, is in strict accordance with the 
purest doctrines of our faith • and that, though he suffered him- 
self to be seduced into wickedness, his mind and heart remained 
untainted by the Mephistophelian philosophy to the last. This 
view of the poetical justice of the catastrophe was eloquently 
expounded by Dr. Franz Horn, in a long conversation which I 
had with him on this subject in August last (1833.) 

Tasso tells us, in a letter to a friend on the Jerusalem, that 
when he was beyond the middle of the poem, and he began to 
consider the strictness of the times, he began also to think of 
an allegory, as a thing which ought to smooth every difficulty. 
The allegory which he thought of, and subsequently gave out 
as the key to the more recondite beauties of his production, was 
this : " The Christian army, composed of various princes and 
soldiers, signified the natural man, consisting of soul and body, 
and of a soul not simple, but divided into many and various 
faculties. Jerusalem, a strong city, placed on a rough and 
mountainous tract, and to which the chief aim of the army is 
directed, figures civil or public felicity, while Godfrey himself 
represents the ruling intellect ; Rhinaldo, Tancred, and others 
being the inferior powers of the mind, and the soldiers, or bulk 
of the army, the body. The conquest, again, with which the 
poem concludes, is an emblem of political felicity ; but, as this 
ought not to be the final object of a Christian man, the poem 
ends with the adoration of Godfrey ; it being thereby signified 
that the intellect, fatigued in public exertions, should finally 
seek repose in prayer, and in contemplating the blessings of a 
happy and eternal life." 

"What Tasso did for the Jerusalem in this matter, I can con- 



APPENDIX. 



305 



ceive it quite possible the commentators may do for the Second 
Part of Faust j but that they will thereby elevate, its poetical 
character, connect it with the First "Fart, or prove it an apt solu- 
tion of the problem, I doubt. As the Prologue in Heaven was 
not added until 1S07 or 1808, my own opinion is, that Goethe's 
plot had no more original existence than Tasso's allegory. 

Mr. Coleridge is reported to have expressed himself as fol- 
lows : — 

" The intended theme of the Faust is the consequences of a 
misology, or hatred and depreciation of knowledge, caused by 
an originally intense thirst for knowledge baffled. But a love 
of knowledge for itself, and for pure ends, would never pro- 
duce such a misology, but only a love of it for base and un- 
worthy purposes. There is neither causation nor progression 
in the Faust • he is a ready-made conjurer from the very begin- 
ning ; the incredulus odi is felt from the first line. The sensuality 
and the thirst after knowledge are unconnected with each other. 
Mephistopheles and Margaret are excellent ; but Faust himself 
is dull and meaningless. The scene in Auerbach's cellars is 
one of the best, perhaps the very best ; that on the Brocken is 
also fine ; and all the songs are beautiful. But there is no 
whole in the poem ; the scenes are mere magic-lantern pictures, 
and a large part of the work is to me very flat. The German is 
very pure and fine." — {Table Talk, vol ii., p. 114.) 



APPENDIX, NO. II. 

BEING 

AN HISTORICAL NOTICE 

OF 

THE STORY OF FAUST, 

AND THE VARIOUS PRODUCTIONS IN ART AND LITERATURE 
THAT HAVE GROWN OUT OF IT. 



During- a late visit to Germany, (1833,) it was one of my 
amusements to inquire, at all the libraries to which I could pro- 
cure access, for books relating to Faust or Faustus ; and though 
the number was far from trifling, it cost me no great labor to 
acquire a general notion of the contents of most of them, and 
write down what bore upon my own peculiar study, or seemed 
any way striking or new. I had made considerable progress in 
the arrangement of the materials thus collected, when Brock- 
haus' Historisches Taschenbuch. (Historical Pocket-book,) for 1834, 
arrived, containing an article entitled Die Sage vom Doctor Faust, 
by Dr. Stieglitz, (already known for an instructive article on the 
same subject ; # ) in which, after a brief history of the hero him- 
self, all the compositions of every sort, that (to the writer's 
knowledge) have grown out of the fable, are enumerated. The 
narrow limits of a Taschenbuch restricted Dr. Stieglitz to giv- 
ing little more than a bare list of title-pages ; but this list has 
proved so extremely useful in indicating where almost every 
sort of information was to be had, that I think it right to avow 
beforehand the extent of obligation he has laid me under. 

*The article in F. Schlegel's Deutsches Museum, referred te in my First 
Edition. 



APPENDIX. 



307 



Before beginning the life of Faust, some of his biographers 
have thought it necessary to determine whether he ever lived 
at all ) and, were we to adopt the mode of reasoning so admi- 
rably illustrated in Dr. Whately's Historic Doubts concerning 
the Existence of Napoleon, we must unavoidably believe that 
there never was such a person, but that the fable was invented 
by the monks to revenge themselves on the memory of Faust, 
the printer, who had destroyed their trade in manuscripts. * But 
if we are content with that sort of evidence by which the vast 
majority of historical incidents are established, we shall arrive 
at a much more satisfactory conclusion concerning him. Me- 
lancthon knew him personally ,f he is spoken of by other imme- 
diate contemporaries ; and I have now before me a chain of 
biographical accounts, reaching from the time during which he 
is supposed to have nourished, down to that at which I write. 

Johann (or John) Faust, (or Faustus,) then, according to the 
better opinion, was born at Kundlingen, within the territory of 
Wurtemberg4 of parents low of stock, (as Marlow expresses it,) 
some time towards the end of the fifteenth century. He must 
not be confounded with Faust (or Fust) the printer, who flour- 
ished more than half a century before. § He was bred a physi- 
cian, and graduated in medicine, but soon betook himself to 
magic as the better art for rising of the two. In this pursuit he 
is said to have spent a rich inheritance left him by an uncle. 
The study of magic naturally led to an acquaintance with the 
devil, with whom he entered into a compact substantially the 
same as that cited (see note 54) in a note. In company with an 
imp or spirit, given by his friend Satan, and attending on him in 
the guise of a black dog, he ranged freely through the world, 
playing olf many singular pranks upon the way. No doubt, 

* It has been contended that the very name is an invented one ; the notion 
being that it was given to a magician — ob faustum in rebus pera tu diffi- 
cilimis successum. Volney's absurd mode of accounting for a far higher 
name must be fresh in everybody's recollection. 

f So says the Conversations-Lexicon; but Dr. Stieglitz is silent on the 
point. 

I Anhalt and Bradenburgh also claim the honor of his birth. 
§ A distinct title is assigned to each^ in the Conversations-Lexicon. The 
printer is supposed to have died of the plague in 1466. 

20 



308 



APPENDIX. 



however, he enjoys the credit of a great deal of mischief he had 
no hand in, just as wits like Jekyl or Sheridan have all the puns 
of their contemporaries to answer for. " Shortly (says G-orres) 
Faustus appeared conspicuous in history as the common repre- 
sentative of mischievous magicians, guilty of all kinds of dia- 
blerie. Their sins, throughout centuries, were all laid at his 
door ; and when the general faith, falling as it were to pieces, 
divided into ferocious schisms, it found a common point of ap- 
proach in a man who, during his frequent tours, and his inter- 
course with all ranks of people, had boasted of his infernal con- 
nections and influence in the nether lands. "* 

Faust appears to have travelled mostly in a magic mantle, 
presenting himself in the cities he lighted on as a travelling 
scholar, (Fahrender Scholast,) a very common sort of vagabond 
in the middle ages. We trace him through Ingolstadt, (where 
he is said to have studied,) Prague, Erfurt, Leipsic, and Wit- 
tenberg, but cannot say with certainty what other places he 
visited in his tours. " About 1560, (says Mr. Caiiyle, in a 
short note about him in the Foreign Quarterly Review, No. 
xvi.) his term of thaumaturgy being over, he disappeared ; 
whether under a feigned name, by the rope of some hangman, 
or frightfully torn in pieces by the devil near the village of Rim- 
lich, between twelve and one in the morning, let every reader 
judge for himsei:.." I am not aware that there is any authority 
at all for the above very injurious insinuation, nor has Mr. 
: €arlyle followed the best as to the date of Faust's disappearance. 
Nothing authentic was heard of him for nearly thirty years 
before. One anecdote, corroborative of the commonly received 
notion of his death, is worth recording. Neumanf relates, 
that when, during the Thirty Years' War, the enemy broke 
into Saxony, a detachment was quartered at a village, called 
Breda, on the Elbe. The magistrate of the village sought out 
the commander, and informed him that his house had obtained 
a high celebrity through Faust's horrible death in it, as the 
blood-besprinkled walls still testified. At this information, the 
conquerors stood astounded, and, soon taking the alarm, en- 
deavored to save themselves by flight. 

* Volksbiischer, as translated by Mr. Roscoe. 
f Disquisitio de Fausto, fyc. 



AFPENDIX. 



309 



Faust had undoubtedly a disciple named Wagner, the son of 
a clergyman at Wesserburg. The name of Wagner also figures, 
as editor, on the title-pages of some works on magic, attributed 
to Faust. 

The most remarkable thing about this fable is its almost uni- 
versal diffusion. It spread rapidly through France, Italy, 
Spain, England, Holland, and Poland, giving birth to numer- 
ous fictions, some of a high order of poetical merit. Amongst 
others, Calderon's El Magico Prodigioso has been attributed to 
it. St. Cyprian of Antioch was the model which Calderon 
really worked upon, but Goethe has been so unequivocally ac- 
cused of plagiarizing from this play, that I shall make a short 
digression for the purpose of conveying a general notion of the 
plot. Three scenes have been translated by Shelley, and 
though very rarely alluded to, they are fully equal to his Frag- 
ments of Faust. 

The first scene is the neighborhood of Antioch, where a so- 
lemnity in honor of Jupiter is in the act of celebration. Cyprian, 
who has begun to see the errors of polytheism, appears, attended 
by two of his disciples carrying books. As he is meditating over 
a passage in Pliny relating to the nature and existence of God, 
the Evil One presents himself in the guise of a travelling gentle- 
man who has lost his way. They have a dispute of some 
length, the devil defending the old superstition, and Cyprian 
attacking it. The devil has the worst of the argument, and makes 
a pretence for withdrawing himself, resolving to seduce Cyprian 
by means of a woman. For this purpose, he selects Justine, one 
of the new Converts to Christianity who is living in Antioch, 
under the care of her adopted father, Lysando. # She is 
beloved by Floro and Laelio, who are about to fight a duel, when 
they are interrupted by the accidental presence of Cyprian, who 
undertakes to see the lady, and ascertain which of them is 
favored by her preference. He visits and falls in love with her 
himself, but is not more successful than the two. young rivals 
have been ; and his desires are at last worked up to such a 
pitch, that he resolves on making every sacrifice to obtain the 
object of them. Whilst in this mood he witnesses a shipwreck, 

*This may remind the reader of Recha, in Nathan the "Wise. 



310 



APPENDIX. 



and offers the solitary survivor an asylum in his house. It is 
the demon, who professes himself able to procure Cyprian the 
possession of Justine, and, in testimony of his power, splits a 
rock (penasco) asunder, and discovers her asleep in the centre 
of it. Cyprian is thereby induced to sign with his blood a con- 
tract for the eventual surrender of his soul, upon condition that 
Justine be secured to him ; which the devil contracts for in his 
turn. For the furtherance of his views, he studies magic, under 
the devil's instruction, until he has made himself a master of 
the art. Whilst Cyprian is thus accomplishing himself, Justine 
is beginning to relent, and, tempted by the devil, sutlers ama- 
tory emotions to influence her to such a degree, that she is on 
the point of falling, but resists, and saves herself by faith. I 
am tempted to give an extract from Shelley's beautiful version 
of this scene, where the evil spirit is tempting the heroine : 

Justine . 

U, T is that enamored nightingale 
Who gives me the reply • 
He ever tells the same soft tale 
Of passion and of constancy 
To his mate, who, rapt and fond, 
Listening sits, a bough beyond. 
Be silent, nightingale ! — no more 
Make me think, in hearing thee 
Thus tenderly thy love deplore, — 
If a bird can feel his so, 
What a man would feel for me ? 
And, voluptuous vine ! O thou 
Who seekest most when least pursuing, 
To the trunk thou interlacest, 
Art the verdure which embracest, 
And the weight which is its ruin ; 
No more, with green embraces, vine, 
Make me think on what thou lovest, — 
For whilst thou thus thy boughs entwine, 
I fear, lest thou should st teach me, sophist, 
How arms might be entangled too. 



APPENDIX. 



311 



Light-enchanted sun-flower ! thou 
"Who gazest, ever true and tender, 
On the sun's revolving splendor ! 
Follow not his faithless glance 
With thy faded countenance. 
Nor teach my beating heart to fear, 
If leaves can mourn without a tear, 
How eyes must weep ! 0, nightingale, 
Cease from thy enamored tale, — 
Leafy vine, unwreathe thy bower, 
Restless sunflower, cease to move, — 
Or tell me, all, what poisonous power 
Ye use against me — 
All. 

Love ! love ! love ! " 

The devil, thus foiled in his expectations, can only bring 
Cyprian a phantom resembling her, and maintains that he has 
thereby fulfilled his contract, but in the end is obliged to own 
that he has not ; that God — one God — the God of Christianity, 
prevents him from harming the maiden, herself a Christian. 
Cyprian draws his sword upon the devil, who is compelled to 
depart, leaving his intended victim to make his peace with God. 
This he does by becoming on the instant a complete convert to 
Christianity, the immediate result of which is that he is appre- 
hended and condemned to die as a heretic in Antioch. Justine, 
in the mean time, has been exposed to a series of trials through 
the rivalry of Fioro and Lselio, whose jealousy has been exas- 
perated by various deceits pat upon them by the devil ; and, at 
the period of Cyprian's condemnation, she is also condemned as 
a heretic. They suffer together, after an affecting interview, in 
which their constancy is put to a severe trial, and the piece 
closes (if we except a few expressions of astonishment by the 
bystanders) with the appearance of the demon, mounted on a 
serpent, on high ; who declares himself commanded by God to 
declare Justine's entire innocence. 

There is a comic by-plot between the inferior characters of 
the piece, with several bustling scenes between Floro, Laelio, 
Lysando, and Justine, but I have only room enough for this 



312 



APPENDIX. 



rude outline. The grand aim of the piece is obviously to exalt 
Christianity. 

I would also refer to the histories of Virgilius, a magician 
who long preceded Faust, # in proof that we are not loosely to 
attribute all traditions and fictions which have a necromantic 
doctor for their hero, to the latter. The works directly founded 
on or relating to his history are numerous enough to satisfy the 
most ardent supporter of his dignity. Dr. Stieglitz makes the 
books alone amount to 106, and his catalogue is clearly incom- 
plete. For instance, he does not mention a modern French prose 
epopee of some note (I forget the precise title) in three volumes, 
published within the last six years j nor the old English work 
of 1594, mentioned by Mr. Roscoef as lent to him by Mr. 
Douce ; nor Mr. Roscoe's own volume ; nor four out of the six 
English dramatic adaptations. The second part of Faust had 
not appeared when Dr. Stieglitz wrote, nor could my own 
book have reached Germany early enough to be counted in his 
list. I also miss Dr. Franz Horn, who has given a detailed and 
very interesting account of the old puppet-show-play. :(: 

I proceed to mention the most remarkable of these produc- 
tions. 

First, amongst those of the dramatic order, stand the old 
puppet-plays. Dr. Stieglitz mentions several of these as popu- 
lar in the last century, but gives only a general account of 

* See Roscoe's German Novelists, vol. i. p. 257. Paracelsus, Cornelius 
Agrippa, Cardanus, Thomas Campanella, Albertus, Magnus, are enumerated 
by Dr. Stieglitz as early renowned for mysterious pursuits, which went by 
the name of magical; and we might match our own Roger Bacon against 
any of them. See " The Famous Historie of Fryer Bacon, with the Lives and 
Deaths of the Two Conjurors Bungye and Vandermast,'"' reprinted in 1S15. 

t"''The Second Report of Doctor John Faustus, containing his Appear- 
ances, and the Deedes of Wagner, written by an English Gentleman, Student 
in Wittenberg, an University of Germany, in Saxony. Published for the De- 
light of all those who desire Novelties, by a Friend of the same Gentleman. 
London, printed by Abell Jeffes, for Cuthbert Burby, and are to be sold at the 
middle Shop, at Saint Milfred Church by the Stockes, 1591." 

I In his Freundliche Schriften (Th. 2.) and also in his Poesie und Berech 
samkeit, Spc. vol. 2, p. 263. At p. 25S, he gives a short account of the old 
puppet-play of Don Juan, whom he calls, in another work, the antithesis of 
Faust, 



APPENDIX. 



313 



them. I therefore follow Dr. Franz Horn, who is speaking 
of a representation which he witnessed himself about the year 
1807. 

The first scene represents Faust sitting in his study with a 
large book before him, in much the same attitude as he is rep- 
resented by Mario w and Goethe. After some reflections on the 
vanity of knowledge, he steps into the magic circle and conjures 
up the devils, for the purpose, it would seem, of selecting one 
of them for his slave. He questions each of them in turn as to 
his comparative swiftness, and, after rejecting one by one those 
who merely profess to be as swift as air, arrows, plagues, &c, 
he chooses the one who says he is as swift as the thoughts of 
men. "In later versions," says Dr. Horn, " Faust is made to 
choose the devil, who is as swift as the transition from good to 
evil." Faust is interrupted by the entrance of Wagner, who is 
represented as a lively sort of person apeing his master. Then 
enters Kasperl, the Mr. Merryman of the piece, who soon 
throws Wagner into the shade. Indeed, on the hiring of Kas- 
perl as Faust's servant by Wagner, which takes place after a 
humorous dialogue between the two, Wagner drops out of 
view, and Kasperl figures as the only attendant upon Faust. 
So soon as Kasperl is left alone, he is driven by curiosity to 
peep into Faust's Book of Magic, and succeeds with much diffi- 
culty in spelling out two words, Berlik, a spell to call up devils, 
and Berluk, a spell to send them away. He forthwith puts -his 
new knowledge to the test, and amuses himself by repeating the 
words so rapidly one after the other, that it is only by the utmost 
exertion of their activity that the devils can keep pace with him 
and obey the word of command. In the end, however, he gets 
a knock-down blow, or rebuff, which closes the scene. 

Faust is next represented as anxious to enter into a compact 
with the devil, with the view of adding to his own influence 
upon earth. The compact is ready, and Faust is bringing ink 
to subscribe it, when the devil with a laugh explains to him that 
his own proper blood will be required. He complies, and opens 
a vein in his hand j the blood forms itself into the letters H. F. 
(Homo, fuge,) and the warning is followed up by the appear- 
ance of a guardian-angel, but in vain. Mephistopheles, who 



314 



APPENDIX. 



had retreated before the angel, reappears ; and a raven flies off 
with the paper, now subscribed by Faust, in its beak. 

The only use Faust makes of his newly acquired power, is to 
wander from place to place playing tricks. The palace of an 
Italian duke is the scene of all those which are represented 
in this show j where he calls up Samson, Goliath, Solomon, 
Judith, &c, &c, for the amusement of the duchess. He is 
thus growing into high favor with her, when the duke, whether 
from jealousy or from some other cause which does not appear, 
makes an attempt to poison him, and Faust very prudently 
moves off. I must not forget to mention that Kasperl is as 
facetious as usual during their sojourn in Italy, but, on his mas- 
ter's sudden flight, he appears reduced to the most melancholy 
condition by solitude. For company's sake he invokes a devil, 
and embraces it with the utmost warmth of affection when it 
appears. This devil is touched by his situation, promises to 
convey him back to Germany, and advises him to apply for the 
place of watchman when there. Kaspar # thanks him heartily 
for his flattering advice, but modestly declares that he cannot 
sing j to which the devil replies, that the watchmen in Germany 
are not required to sing better than they can. 

Faust is now again in his Fatherland, but his term has nearly 
expired, and he whiningly asks the devil, who by the contract 
is always to speak the truth, whether it be yet possible for him 
to come to God. The devil stammers out a soft " I know not," 
and flies tremblingly away. Faust kneels down to pray, but his 
devotions are interrupted by the vision of Helen, sent by the 
Evil One to prevent him from relapsing into faith. He yields 
to the temptation, and all hope is at an end. 

It is now the night of the catastrophe. As the clock strikes 
nine, a voice from above calls to Faust: Bereite dich, — Pre- 
pare thyself ; and shortly afterwards the same voice exclaims: 
Du hut angeUagt, — Thou art arraigned. It strikes ten, and as 
Kasperl (in his capacity of watchman) calls the hour, the voice 
exclaims : Du hist gerichtet, — Thou art judged. 11 Thus then,' 7 
(says Franz Horn,) " no retreat is any longer possible, for the 
judgment (Vriheil not YerurtheU) is passed, and, though not yet 

* Dr. Horn spells the name sometimes Kasperl, and sometimes Kaspar* 



APPENDIX. 



315 



pronounced, still quite clear to the foreboding spirit." On the 
stroke of midnight, the voice calls for the last time : Du bist auf 
eiuig verdammtj — Thou art damned to all eternity ; and, after a 
short monologue, Faust falls into the power of the Evil One. 
The piece concludes with another exhibition of buffoonery by 
Kaspar, who comes upon the stage just as his master is borne 
off. 

None of the other puppet-show plays, of which we have any 
accurate account, differ materially from the above. 

The pantomimes founded on Faust are said to be numerous, 
but I have found it impossible to acquire more than a very 
vague and hearsay knowledge of them, nor perhaps is a more 
particular knowledge desirable. Only two produced at Leipzig 
in 1770 and 1809, and one produced at Vienna in 1779, are re- 
corded by Dr. Stieglitz ; but Mr. Winston, the Secretary to the 
Garrick Club, a gentleman remarkably w T ell versed in dramatic 
history, has obligingly supplied me with a copy of the follow- 
ing three entries in his own private catalogue of perform- 
ances : — 

" Harlequin Dr. Faustus, w r ith the Masques of the Deities, 
produced at Drury Lane, in 1724. Published in Oct. 1724. By 
Thurmond, a Dancing-Master. Pantomime. 

" Harlequin Dr. Faustus, 1766 ; a revival of the last, with 
alterations by "Woodward. 

" Harlequin Dr. Faustus, or the Devil will have his Own, 
Pantomime. 1793." 

Marlow's play # seems to be the earliest regular drama found- 
ed on the fable ; one by Mountfort, also an Englishman, the 
next.f A play extemporized by a company of actors at Mainz, 

* It was acted in 1594 by the Lord Admiral's servants. From Mr. Collier's 
Annals of the Stage, (vol. iii. p. 126,) it appears that a considerable portion of 
Marlow's play, as it has come down to us, is the work of other hands. The 
earliest known edition is that of 1604 ; but it must have been written some 
time before, as it is supposed to have suggested " The Honorable History of 
Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay." published in 1594, by Greene. See Collier, 
vol. iii. p. 159, and Dyce's Edition of Greene's Works. Marlow's Faustus 
has been translated into German by W. Miiller, with a Preface by von Arnim, 
one of the editors of the Wunderhorn. 

fLife and Death of Dr. Faustus, by W. Mountfort, brought out at Queen's 
Theatre, Dorset Gardens ; published in 4to. 1697. 



316 



APPENDIX. 



in 1746, is the first of which anything certain is recorded in 
Germany. * Since Marlow's time, some thirty or forty dramatic 
fictions (it is impossible to fix the precise number) have been 
founded on it. The great majority of these have been elicited 
by Goethe's j Maler Miiller, and two or three others, undoubt- 
edly preceded him, so far at least as publication is concerned ;f 
but the designs differ widely, and no one, after reading Mut- 
ter's, will suspect Goethe of borrowing much from it. There is 
considerable power in the soliloquies, and the scene in which the 
emblems of Wealth, Power, Pleasure and Glory, are in turns 
exhibited to Faust, is very finely conceited ; but the greater 
part is occupied by tedious colloquies between subordinate char- 
acters, and the plot has not time to develop itself before the 
Fragment concludes. There are two or three points of imper- 
fect analogy, which I will name. 

The first scene, instead of representing the Lord wagering 
with Mephistopheles that he cannot seduce Faust, represents 
Lucifer wagering with Mephistopheles that no truly great (that 
is, firm and steadfast) man is to be found upon earth. Me- 
phistopheles undertakes to prove that Faust is such a one ; so 
that in Goethe's drama we have Mephistopheles depreciating, 
and in Miiller's exalting, the character of Faust. Again — 
"Wagner makes his first entrance during one of Faust's solilo- 
quies, which he breaks off; and a Margaret is represented as 
conversing with her lover from her window in this manner : — 

" Kolbel. 

" Margaret, my charmer, my angel! Oh, that I were above 
there, in thy arms ! 

" Margaret. 

"Hush! I hear my sister ; my uncle coughs. Come round 
to the other window, and I have something more to say to you. 
" Kolbel. 
" With all my heart, love." 

* Neuman, Disquis. de Faust o, says generally that it was dramatized in the 
seventeenth century. 

t Johann Faust, an allegorical Drama in Five Acts, was published at Mu- 
nich, in 1775. As to the chronological history of Goethe's Faust, see ante, 
p. 217, note. 



APPENDIX. 



317 



There is no want of charity in supposing that this love adven- 
ture ended much in the same manner as that recorded by 
Goethe ; and the expressions strongly resemble those, ante, p. 
162. Some similarity in the soliloquies was to be anticipated, 
as they necessarily turn upon the same topics of discontent ; but 
there is one reply made by Muller's Faust to the Devil, which 
bears so close a likeness to one placed by Goethe in his mouth, 
(ante, p. 83,) that I shall quote it also as it stands : — - 

{t Faust. 

u Know'st thou, then, all my wishes ? 

" Sixth Devil. 
u — And will leave them in the consummation far behind. 
" Faust. 

" How ! if I required it, and thou wert to bear me to the 
uppermost stars, — to the uppermost part of the uppermost, 
shall I not bring a human heart along with me, which in its 
wanton wishes will nine times surpass thy flight ? Learn from 
me that man requires more than God and Devil can give." 

Previous to the publication of Faust's Leben dramatisirt, (the 
piece I quote from,) Muller had published (in 1776) a Frag- 
ment entitled, " A Situation out of Faust's Life." It presents 
nothing remarkable. 

Amongst the writers who have followed Goethe's in writing 
poems, dramas or dramatic scenes about Faust, are Lenz, 
Schreiber, Klinger, von Soden, Schink, von Chamisso, Voigt, 
Schone, Berkowitz, Klingemann, Grabbe, Holtei, Harro Har- 
ring, Rosenkranz, Hofmann, Bechstein, and Pfizer; without 
reckoning those who have published anonymously. 

Lessing, it is well known, had drawn up two plans for a 
drama upon Faust ; he has only left us one fragment of a scene. 
This has been translated by Lord F. L. Egerton, and appended 
to his translation of Goethe's Faust. Madame de Stael suggests 
that Goethe's plan was borrowed from it, and she is probably 
right as regards the Prologue in Heaven. The only difference 
is that Lessing's is a Prologue in Hell, where one of the attend- 
ant spirits proposes to Satan the seduction of Faust, who assents, 



318 



APPENDIX. 



and declares the plan a feasible one, on being informed that 
Faust has an overweening desire for knowledge. The whole 
of this fragment would not more than fill two of my pages.* See/ 
as to'Lessing's plans, his Brief e die neueste Literatur betreffend, 
Parti, p. 103; the Anahcten fur die Literatur, Part i. p. 110; 
and the Second Part of his Theatrical Legacy. — (Nachlass.) 

Dr. Stieglitz has no less than four Operas upon his list. 

Of those by Bauerle and von Voss, I know nothing. That by 
Bernard and Spuhr has been received with considerable ap- 
plause in Germany, but the plot is mostly made up out of the 
old traditionary stories, and the composer seems very rarely to 
have had Goethe's drama in his mind. An Opera Seria, entitled 
Fausto, was also produced at Paris in March, 1831, the music 
by Mademoiselle Louise Bertin ; this I never saw, nor do I 
know whether it succeeded or not. The Ballet of Faust, im- 
ported last year, (1832,) must be fresh in everybody's recollec- 
tion 5 the descent scene (as I can personally testify) had a fine 
effect in Paris, but it was completely spoiled at the Anglo-Ital- 
ian Opera House by the shallowness of the stage. The devils 
were brought so near to the spectators, that the very materials 
of their infernal panoply were clearly distinguishable. 

A " Romantic Musical Drama,'' called first, "Faustus," and 
afterwards " the Devil and Dr. Faustus," the joint production 
of Messrs. Soane and Terry, was brought out at Drury Lane, in 
May, 1S25 ; and, by the aid of Stansfield's scenery, and Terry's 
excellent acting in Mephistopheles, it had a considerable run. 
It was afterwards published by Simpkin and Marshal. 

The most successful attempt to set Faust to music is that of 
the late Prince Radzivil. His composition is spoken of in the 
highest terms of approbation by those who have had the honor 
of being present at a rehearsal of it, and I understand that the 
Princess (his widow) has printed (or is about to print) the whole, 
though only for circulation amongst her friends. Goethe's ap- 
proval of the attempt has been unequivocally expressed. — 
( Works, vol. xxx. p. 89.) 

It appears from the correspondence between Goethe and Zel- 
ter, (vol. ii. pp. 424, 429,) that Zelter once undertook to write 
music for Faust by the desire of the author ; nor must I forget 
to mention that Goethe's Faust has been adapted to the stage by 



APPENDIX. 



319 



Tieck, It was first acted in its altered state at Leipzig and 
Dresden on' the 28th August, 1829, the anniversary of Goethe's 
eightieth birthday, and is now a stock-piece at the principal 
theatres. A good deal of discussion took place at the time as to 
the fitness of the poem for theatrical representation at all ;* 
though Schlegel, who considers the question in his Lectures on 
the Drama, (Lect. 15,) and decides in the negative, appears to • 
have set the question at rest. 

All the Commentaries I had been able to obtain were also 
named in my first Edition. I am happy to find that I had, even 
then, all which have any known existence but two : Wolf's Lec- 
tures, delivered at Jena, in 1829, never printed; and M. von 
Arnim's Preface to the German Translation of Marlow. To 
make this appendix complete, I shall here recapitulate the whole 
of them : 

Ueber Goethe's Faust : Vorlesungen von Dr. Schubarth, 
Berlin, 1830. 

Ueber Goethe's Faust und dessen Fortsetzung, nebst einem 
Anhange von dem ewigen Juden, Leipzig, 1824. 

Aesthetische Vorlesungen Ueber Goethe's Faust, dec, von Dr. 
Hinrichs, Halle, 1825. 

Ueber Calderon's Tragoedie vom Wunderthatigen Magus j 
Ein Beitrag zum Verstandniss der Fautischen Fabel, von Karl 
Rosenkrantz, Halle und Leipzig, 1829. 

Ueber Erklarung und Fortsetzung des Faust im Allgemeinen, 
&c, von E. Rosenkrantz, Leipzig, 1831. 

Doctor Faustus, Tragodie von Marlowe, &c; aus dem Eng- 
lischen iibersetzi von W. Miiller. Mit einer Vorrede von Ludwig 
von Arnim, Berlin, 1808. 

Herold's Stimme zu Goethe's Faust, von C. F. G— — 1, Leip- 
zig, 1831, 

Zur Beurtheilung Goethe's, mit Beziehung auf verwandte Lit- 
eratur und Kunst, von Dr. Schubarth, 1820 ; a work in two 
volumes, of which a large part is occupied with Faust. 

Goethe aus personlichem Umgange dargestellt, von Falk ; the 
last 110 pages of which consist of a Commentary on Faust. 

Vorlesungen fiber Goethe's Faust, von Dr. Rauch, 1830. 



* See Bechstein's Pamphlet, published at Stuttgardt, 1831. 



320 



APPENDIX. 



In Schlegel's Lectures on Dramatic Literature, Lect. 15, there 
are a few remarks. Faust also forms the subject of some letters 
in the Brief wechsel between Schiller and Goethe, vol. iii. pp. 129 
—141. 

It onty remains to mention the artists who have taken the old 
tradition or the modern drama of Faust for their subject-matter. 
Of the former class, I know but two worth mentioning : one is 
Rembrandt, who has left a head of Faust, and a sketch of him 
in his study, sitting just as Goethe has described him, in the 
midst of books and instruments, with a magic circle ready 
drawn and a skeleton half hidden by a curtain in the room. 
The other is van Sichem, a Dutch artist, bom about 1580. He 
has left us two sketches: a scene between Faust and Mephis- 
topheles, and a scene between Wagner and an attendant spirit, 
Auerhain, by name. These really interesting productions are 
minutely described by Dr. Stieglitz, and I have seen a copy of 
the sketch by Rembrandt myself. The pictures in Auerbach's 
cellars are described, ante, p. 257. 

The illustrators of Faust mentioned by Dr. Stieglitz (and I 
know of no others) are : Retzsch, with his English imitator 
Moses, and a French imitator, who modestly conceals his name; 
Nauwerk, Nehrlich, Nake, Ramberg, Lacroix (for Stapfer's 
translation,)^ and Cornelius, whose designs were engraved by 
Ruschweyh, in Rome. Of these, the most celebrated are Retzsch 
and Cornelius. It is quite unnecessary to speak of Retzsch, 
whose fame is now universally diffused. Cornelius was for- 
merly at the head of the school of painting at Diisseldorf, and is 
now President of the Academy of the Design at Munich. He 
enjoys the reputation of being the first historical painter in Ger- 
many, and his illustrations of Faust have great merit ; but, 
being in the largest folio, and three or four pounds in price, 
they are comparatively little known. 



* See Goethe's Post. Works, vol. vi. p. 169. 



APPENDIX, NO. III. 



Dies iree, dies ilia 
Solvet sseclum in favilla 
Teste David cum Sibylla. 

Quantus tremor est futurus, 
Quando Judex est venturus, 
Ouncta striate discuss nrus ! 

Tuba minim spargens sonum, 
Per sepulchra regionum, 
Coget omnes ante thronum. 

Mors stupebit, et natura, 
Cum resurget creatura, 
Judicanti responsura. 

Liber scriptus proferetur, 
In quo totum continetur, 
Unde mundus judicetur. 

Judex ergo cum sedebit, 
Quidquid latet apparebit, 
Nil inultum remanebit. 

Quid sum miser tunc dicturus, 
Quern patronum rogaturus, 
Cum vix justus sit securus ? 

Rex tremendse majestatis, 
Qui salvandos salvas gratis, 
Salva me, Fons pietatis. 

Recordare, Jesu pie, 
Quod sum causa tuae vise 
Ne me perdas ilia die. 



322 



APPENDIX. 



Queerens me, sedisti lassus, 
Redemisti crucem passus : 
Tantus labor non sit cassus. 

Juste judex ultionis, 
Donuin fac remissionis, 
Ante diem rationis. 

Ingemisco tanquam reus, 
Culpa rubet vultus meus : 
Supplicanti parce, Deus. 

Qui Mariam absolvisti, 
Et latronem exaudisti, 
Mihi quoque spem dedisti. 

Preces mese non sunt dignge, 
Sed tu, bone, fac benigne, 
Ne perenni cremer igne ! 

Inter oves locum prsesta, 
Et ab hasdis me sequestra, 
Statuens in parte dextra. 

Confutatis maledictis, 
Flammis acribus addictis, 
Voca me cum benedictis. 

Oro supplex, et acclinis, 
Cor contritum quasi cinis : 
Gere curam mei finis. 

Amen, 



X58 












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